


Out Of Ashes

by DonnieFamily_Rositara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Healing, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tara Deserves Better, Tara deserved better, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 78,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnieFamily_Rositara/pseuds/DonnieFamily_Rositara
Summary: When Alpha beheaded and put nine heads on pikes, Tara was the one spared.A story about loss as Tara struggles with the trauma of being the soul survivor of a slaughter, and Rosita is there to pick up the pieces and help her mend.Basically a S10 rewrite
Relationships: Connie/Daryl Dixon, Tara Chambler/Maggie Greene, Tara Chambler/Rosita Espinosa
Comments: 22
Kudos: 62





	1. She Remembered

_She remembered it all._

The horror that filled her body, starting as a pang in her heart and dropping to her gut, as she watched Jesus’ nearly lifeless body being carried through the gates. Everything had moved in slow motion. He was unconscious and barely breathing, scarlet dripping from under his leather armor. She could barely move as they rushed him to Alex, the Hilltop’s doctor.

“Tara, Jesus trusts you, so we’re all looking to you now. But people are going to want justice, and when the time comes, if he’s not…we’re gonna look to you for that, too.”

“I know.”

She remembers the interrogation she led with Michonne, trying to get answers from a terrified girl, a child no older than Carol’s boy. _Lydia_ was her name she eventually learned.

And then the girl’s mother came for her daughter. She remembered the tremor that went through her hands when that woman marched her way to the gates with a small army dressed as the dead. And the woman left a _baby_ to die. A baby the new woman, Connie, saved along with a few Hilltoppers. She didn’t want to send the poor girl back to that _monster_ , but they had no choice. They had to do the trade, Lydia for Alden and Luke, who were being held hostage by the monstrous woman.

She remembers the fear when Carol’s boy, Henry, ran away after the girl. She sent Daryl after him. Daryl would get shit done. She replayed that though in her head as she squeezed Jesus’ limp hand before heading to the fair, not knowing whether she was entering the Kingdom as Hilltop’s interim or permanent leader. Alex said it didn’t look good. _Daryl would get shit done._ But he _didn’t_. Her fear amplified when Daryl entered the fair with Connie, Henry and the girl.

“The plan was to bring Henry. _Just_ Henry.”

“Gather up all the leaders. We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Michonne had said.

They all gathered in the theater of The Kingdom, Michonne giving off a speech about change and growth. Alexandria chose to grant Lydia asylum, but she knew it was Hilltop that Alpha would come for.

“If her mother retaliates, it’ll be against Hilltop. I have to do right by _my_ people. I thought we were on the same page.”

“We were. When she came to my gates, I asked her to run away. And when she didn’t, I was angry,” Michonne had said.

“Then you know why I’m not okay with this.”

“I do. I also know why Rick didn’t trust _me_ when I showed up at the gates of the prison. Why people didn’t trust _you_ after seeing you on the other side of The Governor’s firing line.”

Rachel, who was more of a woman than a child now, butted in with, “I was gonna kill you on sight when you washed up on our shore.”

“Okay, fair,” Tara admits tiredly.

“Lydia didn’t choose where she comes from. But she chose where she wanted to be. Just like everybody in this room.”

So they agreed, the other communities would send some of their soldiers to Hilltop in case of retaliation. And she remembered how it felt when she held the pen in her hand, signing her name on the coalition agreement. She left space below for Jesus if he ever awoke.

She remembered sending off Dianne and some fighters to Hilltop, itching to join them but needing to stay at the fair as Hilltop’s leader. She was uneasy, and it never settled. She remembered the uneasy feeling seeing the strange woman ask to show her something important, and then the pain resonating in her head as she was hit in the back of her head. And then everything went black.

She remembered waking in a barn, eyes squinting and her head pounding. Her eyes had widened seeing the others who were captured. Frankie, Tammy Rose, Rodney and Addy, _Enid,_ Siddiq and Henry. She remembered Ozzy and DJ and Alek trying to save them all. She grabbed a knife with her bound hands and fought with all her might. But there was too many of them.

One by one, like lambs to the slaughter, they were dragged with heads yanked back and a sword slicing through, decapitating them one by one. She heard pleas and cries and screams. When Enid was dragged up, when she heard Enid’s plea, she heard her own scream. _Pleading, begging_. Enid was an adult now, but she would always remember her as the child she met in Alexandria, the girl who snuck off with Carl into the woods when heads were turned. She was a tie to everyone’s memory of Carl. She was a tie to the days she missed, the days she longed for again. A tie to Glenn, to Maggie. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks, unable to watch Enid be beheaded. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a kick to her side, feeling the crack. Ten bodies were splayed on the bloody barn floor. Ten headless bodies. She looked at the dripping sword, wondering if she was next.

_She remembered._

Her fear evaporated. She felt at peace, almost. She was ready.

There was another explosion of pain to the back of her head. And the world went black again.

When she awoke, her head was foggy and pain was radiating throughout her entire body. She blinked harshly against the rising sun, sucking in a breath. She was leaning against a tree, a clearing in sight.

And she _remembered_. Her friends being decapitated. The kicks and blows to her body. She wanted to cry, to scream. But she was frozen and in a world of pain. She was wondering why she was here—why she was _alive_. Why _her?_

She heard footsteps nearing and she closed her tired eyes. Still, she felt no fear. She was almost praying they had come to finish her off after all, because all she could feel was pain and all she could think about was a sword slicing heads off, blood splattering and headless bodies laying in pools of blood.

_“Tara!”_

She felt a hand on her shoulder, another against her clammy cheek. She cracks her eyes open to look into Michonne’s.

 _“They’re all gone,”_ she croaked out.

“What’d ya mean?” Daryl this time. He didn’t wait, he pulled her arm over his shoulder and she bit back a whine as she was hauled to her feet. Yumiko appeared on her other side. Daryl pointed and they made their way up a hill. She felt like collapsing but somehow kept putting one foot in front of another with the help of her friends.

A cry left her when they reach the top of the hill. Daryl disappeared, grabbing onto Carol. Looks of horror were plastered onto everyone’s faces. On pikes coated in blood were the heads of their friends. A sob erupted from her throat as her knees buckled, Yumiko keeping her from crashing down.

Ozzy and Alek and DJ weren’t supposed to be there, they had only come to try to rescue them and they had paid the price. Frankie, Tammy Rose who had just adopted a baby, Addy and Rodney who were just children—Hilltop children she was supposed to protect. Enid, sweet and brave Enid who deserved much better. And Henry, Carol’s boy. Carol, who had just lost yet another child of hers. And they had all turned. They all…they had cut off their heads and let them turn into monsters.

And for the third time, her whole world went black.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

 _Pain. Fear. Guilt._ That’s the first thing that registered to Tara when she began to come to.

Pain that resonated through her entire body, especially her head. She briefly wondered how many head injuries she could take until her head just stopped working. Fear of what came next. Of how she’d survive this, cope with what she saw, what had happened to her, to them. And guilt of being the one left alive. The example. The message. So many others had deserved to live over her. The parents, the _children_.

“Tara? Tara, can you hear me?”

The voice of an angel. A voice so familiar but had been lost to her ears for so long. _Rosita._ It had been _years_. She felt Rosita’s hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. It felt so familiar, like she hadn’t spent years away from her touch, her smile, her voice. She felt a hand stroking her hair back. She musters her strength and gives the hand a squeeze.

“You’re back at The Kingdom. You’re safe now.”

 _“They’re all gone,”_ Tara whispered hoarsely.

Rosita helps her lift her head up and she feels a cup pressed to her lips. She gulps at the cool water. “Not so fast, you’ll get sick.” She slowly, desperately, sips the water until the cup is emptied. Rosita lays her back down, and she opens her eyes. She sees Rosita’s face, forehead wrinkled as she looks down at her with worry, with sadness in her brown eyes.

“They’re all gone,” Tara repeats.

“They are,” Rosita says, voice heavy with sorrow.

“I should’ve—”

“No. Tara, there was nothing you could have done. What they did to them…it was horrific. It was cruel and _monstrous_. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“Tammy Rose said she _trusted_ me, that they _all_ did. I let her down. I let _everyone_ down.” She squeezes her eyes against the tears.

“You didn’t let anyone down. _Nobody_ thinks that.”

“I do.”

“I know. And I’ll keep reminding you, for as long as I have to until you believe it yourself. You should try to get some more rest, you’ve been through a lot. Your body and your mind need rest.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you, not again. Not anymore.”

As Tara begins to drift off into a restless sleep, she remembers feeling Rosita’s lips press against her forehead comfortingly. She remembers, for a brief moment, feeling loved and feeling safe for the first time in a while.


	2. Never Be the Same

“Are you ready?” Rosita asks, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Tara. Tara was sitting up, legs pulled up to her chest as she hugged them, rocking back and forth slightly.

“No,” she whispers. “I can’t face them.”

“It’s been a week. It’s time for you to go home, Tara. I talked to Dianne, she told everyone at Hilltop what happened. They all miss you and are waiting for you to return home.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be that person—it was Maggie’s, and then it was Jesus’. I wasn’t supposed to be the leader. None of this was supposed to happen.”

“I know, Tara.” She rubs her back comfortingly.

“I can’t lead them. I _can’t._ Not now.”

“Nobody expects you too. They just want you _home_. They need to see you. You give them strength, T, because you’re _you_. You don’t have to talk to anyone, Diane and I will keep everyone from crowding you. They just need to see you. People lost their spouses, their children and parents. They need your strength.”

“I don’t think I have any strength left in me, Ro,” she says, her voice cracking. “I’m _so tired_.”

“You do, you have so much strength, Tara, whether you believe so or not.” She shifts, pulling Tara closer to her. “Come here.” Tara let’s her knees go and clings to Rosita, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder. Rosita holds onto her tightly, stroking her hair. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Not right away, but you will be. Because you’re so strong. You’re strength and your light is why so many people love you. Right now, let me be the strong one, let me be your light. You just focus on you, and I’ll deal with the rest.”

“You’re gonna come to Hilltop, too?”

“I promised you I wasn’t leaving you again, didn’t I? I’m not going to break a promise to my favorite person.” She gets a watery laugh from Tara.

“I’m ready,” Tara whispers finally.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Tara was overwhelmed when she got out of the wagon with Rosita and Yumiko’s aid. She was still in pain, still recovering from physical injuries, but she was getting no better at The Kingdom. She belonged home, with her people, in her own bed with the doctor she was familiar with.

Dianne must’ve told everyone to give her space because everyone kept a respectful distance despite the fact many people looked like they wanted to approach her. She saw smiles, faces of relief and a lot of sorrow. Her heart broke for them all. Earl Sutton moved towards them and Rosita moved to stop him but Tara waved her off.

“I…Tammy Rose believed in you. I do, too. Get better,” he says in his gruff voice. She saw the tears brimming in his eyes and the pain hidden. He had lost his wife, whom he had spent over forty years married too. He was raising baby Adam alone now. She reached a hand out, putting a hand on his arm. He gave a small smile, covering her hand with his own.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Earl.”

“We’ll get justice for what was taken from us. For Tammy Rose and those kids and all those other good folks from the other communities. We’ll get justice.”

Tara nods, sniffing. “We will.”

“So, um, you go on now and get some rest and get better. We’ll all be here when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her eyes follow as he walks away. Rosita gives her arm a gentle squeeze, getting her attention back. They finished the walk to Barrington House uninterrupted.

“Jesus?” Tara asks Yumiko as Rosita helps her take the stairs step by step. With her mind less cloudy and more focused, although not by much, her worry for their true leader and one of her closest friends was on her mind.

“No change,” Yumiko responds with a soft sigh. “Alex doesn’t seem hopeful for his recovery.”

“What’s going to happen? With Hilltop? They want justice—they need a _leader_. And I can’t, I _can’t_ be that for them. They _just_ lost Jesus and me…”

“We sent a letter to Maggie. Explaining the situation. Asking her to come home.”

“I’ve sent her so many letters over the past year and she doesn’t respond often. She’s trying to put this life behind her. She wants a better life for her and for Hershel.”

“This is her home, too,” Rosita speaks up. Tara sits on the edge of her bed. “We are her people, whether she wants us to be or not. Things have changed. And we need her, at least until you or Jesus are up to task again. We aren’t asking her to become the permanent leader again, but we are asking her to come as an interim.”

“An interim for the interim,” Tara laughs dryly.

“Hey. We’re going to get through this.”

“Are we?” Tara scoffs.

“We are,” Yumiko agrees, her voice confident.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“I really need you to wake up, Jesus. I need you to.”

Tara had been back in Barrington House for a few nights, and while she was physically beginning to feel better she still felt like she was drowning. Like she had been frozen while the whole world moved around her. She had woken up in the middle of the night like she did countless times, but this time instead of lying there staring up at the ceiling, she had slipped from bed and made her way down the stairs as carefully and quietly as she could. She had pulled a chair up beside Jesus’ bed, curling up in it with a quilt pulled around her shoulders.

“ _Please_. I need you. I can’t do this without you. _You’re_ the leader, not me. Sure, I kept you going and organized your shit, but you’re the strong one. You’re the one everyone believes in. Everyone needs you. _I_ need you.” She wipes the tears off her cheek. She was always the strong one, the shining light in a sea of darkness with a smile on her face and a joke to crack. But she felt lost, the light that one shined bright inside of her now a distance light that was threatening to be snuffed out.

She squeezed his limp hand, almost willing the wavering strength inside of her to transfer to him somehow. “ _Please._ Don’t go. Stay. Wake up. _Please,”_ she cried. “I have Ro, and I missed her so much. You know I did. But it’s not the same as you. Nobody else knows Hilltop the way you do, nobody knows how much we put into this place. What we went through to keep this place afloat.” She let out a sob, letting him go and folding her hands on her lap, looking down. She wasn’t always sure how to talk to Rosita, to Yumiko or Dianne. But Jesus, awake or unconscious, was the best listener she knew.

“I’m trying to be strong for everyone, to push forward but I’m _so_ tired. _So tired_. It’s so hard to do this. Nobody can understand. Nobody else was _there_. They didn’t see what I saw. They saw the pikes, but they didn’t…they didn’t see them get beheaded. They didn’t hear them screaming. _Crying._ See the blood and the horror. They didn’t watch everyone else die and be the one left alive. It’s not _fair_. _None_ of this is fair. It just _isn’t_. I know, I know life isn’t fair. We always lose the good people. Denise, Glenn, Abraham, Carl, Rick. We lose people. But this, this was cruel and unnecessary and _evil_. And so many _good_ people at once. I’m not sure if anyone will be the same again after this. I’m not sure if _I’ll_ ever be the same again.”

At some point, she drifted off to a restless sleep, cured up in that chair at Jesus’ bedside. That’s exactly how Rosita found her the next morning.


	3. Home

_Maggie,_

_We need you to come back. We need you. Jesus is dying. Tara was almost killed and she’s not okay. Enid is dead. So is Carol’s son. And nine others. They were murdered by a group called The Whisperers. They wear the skin of the dead and move with them._

_They marked borders, cutting off our hunting lands. Hilltop took the most hits and is now leaderless. Alex doesn’t think Jesus will make it. And I’m not sure if Tara will ever be ready to take leadership back again._

_I know you left to try to leave the past behind you. To get a better life for yourself and your son. I wouldn’t ask for you to return unless I had to. And I have to. To get justice, to survive, we need you to return. To take over until Tara’s recovered or a miracle happens and Jesus wakes up. Or until we can find someone else to take over._

_I think you being here, even if temporary, would help Tara a lot. Having us both at her side is her best chance for being okay, for recovering enough to take back over._

_Please come back. We need you. Tara needs you._

_Rosita_

The paper shook in Maggie’s hand, her fist clenching, the paper beginning to crumple in it. She’d been gone just a year. _A year_. And everything had fallen apart. The home she called hers for years was crumbling. And the people…

_Enid_. Enid with her silky brown hair and big blue eyes. Enid was a child when she met her, thirteen and guarded and orphaned. Glenn had connected with her first. Enid had been by her side every second after Glenn was murdered. And she was there helping her raise Hershel. But then she just left her. Now she’d never see her again. Never see the crinkle at the corner of her eyes, her huge smile and kind soul again.

And Jesus, clinging to life. Brave, strong Jesus who defied her and turned her into a stronger leader. Jesus who taught her everything she needed to know at Hilltop. He was clever, a sneaky ninja who always looked on the bright side and had a strong moral compass. She couldn’t imagine not seeing him awake and full of life.

And _Tara_. Tara was the _definition_ of full of life. _Tara was almost killed and she’s not okay._ Tara and her sparkling eyes and infectious laugh, making everyone smile even in the darkest times. She was Glenn’s friend first. His best friend. And then she was hers. She loved Tara, more than anyone else outside of her family. No, Tara _was_ family. She was her best friend, her sister. What had that Whisperer group done to her, what had happened that Rosita had mentioned so many times that Tara was not okay, that she needed her? All she could picture was the liveliest, brightest person she knew curled up in a ball, a former shell of her old self. It was a thought that made her sway on her feet. A thought she didn’t want.

She crumpled up the paper.

Hilltop needed her. _Tara_ needed her.

She was going home.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Maggie took a few days to figure out her situation. She didn’t want to bring Hershel to the heart of the problems at Hilltop, but she also didn’t want to be apart from her son for god knows how long. In the end, she decided to be selfish and bring him along—they wanted her to drop everything and return, so they could protect her child.

She said farewell to Georgie, who she had grown quite accustomed to, promising she’d find her after everything was over. And then she was on her way in a car gifted to her by a grateful Georgie, Hershel in the back seat watching her intently.

“Where are we going, Mama?”

“We’re going back to the Hilltop, baby.”

“Back home?” He asks, eyes lighting up. _Glenn’s eyes._

She swallows. “Back home.”

“And Uncle Jesus and Auntie Tara and Auntie Enid will be there?”

_Auntie Enid_. She swallowed back her tears. “Um…something happened, baby. Auntie Enid’s…gone. And Uncle Jesus, he fell asleep and won’t wake up. And Auntie Tara got hurt bad. That’s why we’re going back.”

“Oh,” his cheerfulness drops and it hurts her heart.

“But I bet your big smile will help Auntie Tara feel better.” That got his smile back. Not fully, but it was there.

Her heart tugged, that buried thought of _“if I never left…”_ resurfacing to nag at her. She didn’t have time for regrets. She didn’t even know _if_ she had regrets. The past year of her life was so good. _So happy_. Hershel had cried saying he wanted to go home at first, but after a few weeks he settled and after a few months she thought he might have even forgotten about his home back at Hilltop. But he was reminding her now that he never did. He cries and questions stopped, but from his reaction, the constant want never truly left him.

He was quiet the rest of the trip and Maggie almost wished he wasn’t. _Almost_. Part of her enjoyed the quiet, basked in it. But the other part, the rational part, drifted into a void full of thoughts and questions. Facing the reality of Enid’s death. Seeing Jesus laying lifeless. Looking at Tara and not seeing lit up eyes and a confident smile. They were realities she almost didn’t want to face. _Almost_.

When she drove up to Hilltop, it felt like a ghost town. The fields were empty of people working in the crops fields and she saw that the sentries at the wall were all on high alert. So she slowed the car and slowly stepped out, not wanting to risk getting shot at, especially with her six year old in the backseat. When she saw Dianne, a familiar face up on the guard post, she relaxed a little. Just a moment later the gates open and she got back in her car, driving in.

Dianne and a woman with long dark hair and a serious face met her at her car. She got out, opening the backseat to allow Hershel to climb out before facing the two women. “What happened?”

“Why don’t we have little man here go hang out with Jerry and his kids while we talk?” Dianne suggests in a low voice. Maggie hesitates before nodding. Dianne makes a motion and Alden walks over to them. Dianne whispers to him, and after he kneels down to Hershel’s height.

“Hey, buddy. Do you remember me?”

“Yeah! You’re Alden, the builder,” Hershel says with a big smile.

“That’s why,” Alden chuckles. “Do you remember Jerry? He has a son not much younger than you. Ezra.”

“Yeah! I remember Ezra. He had a baby sister.”

“Two sisters now. His mom just had another baby. Do you want to visit them?”

“Yeah!” He turns to Maggie. “Can I, Mama? Please?”

Maggie smiles down at him. “Of course, sweetie.” She watches as Hershel takes Alden’s hand and the two walk away, Hershel chatting excitedly. Once they’re out of earshot, “now tell me what happened.”

“Let’s go inside.”

The three women make their way into Barrington House. They go into the office. Maggie looks over the office, it was _too_ neat. It had been untouched for a bit she could tell. Dianne and the other woman sit so Maggie does the same.

“This is Yumiko. She and her group joined Hilltop a little over a month ago. She’s spent a lot of time with Tara and Rosita. As for what happened, Jesus was stabbed. Barely missed his heart. Alex barely kept him alive and after fixing him up, he still hasn’t woken. It’s been two weeks.”

“And Tara?”

This time Yumiko was the one to talk. “I was there when Jesus got stabbed. We were bringing him back here when we crossed some of the Whisperer’s. We took one hostage, turned out to be just a kid, Lydia’s her name. An abused, traumatized kid at that. Her mother is the leader of the Whisperers and wanted her daughter back. She had Luke, one of my friends, and Alden hostage so we had no choice but to trade. Carol’s son, Henry, he I guess developed a crush on Lydia so he ran away to find her. Daryl went after him and when they returned to the fair he had both kids with him.”

“Oh no,” Maggie breathes.

“The communities all reunited. They signed some unification sheet. Ezekiel for the kingdom, Rachel and Cyndie for Oceanside, Gabriel for Alexandria and Tara for Hilltop. Everyone decided to pitch in and send in soldiers to Hilltop. In the midst of everything Lydia’s mother was planning retaliation. She attacked and abducted Tara, Enid, Henry, Tammy Rose Sutton, two Hilltop kids Addy and Rodney, Frankie and DJ from Alexandria, and two newcomers Ozzie and Alek. They beheaded them all one by one, right in front of Tara. When we found her she was slumped against a tree and barely conscious. She had been beaten real bad. She ended up collapsing and slept for two days.”

Maggie starts shaking her head. _This can’t be real_. “No. No.”

“She’s not doing good. She barely eats, can’t sleep and when she actually does she wakes up screaming. Alex tried giving her sleep medication but she refuses to take it. she’s just…so angry and empty. Rosita is at a loss at what to do. Nothing helps her. That’s one of the reasons she wrote you. We were going to anyways because we’re leaderless right now, but with Tara in the state she’s in, it was urgent. Rosita thinks you can help.”

“I…I need to see her.”

“She might not react well. You need to be prepared for that.”

Maggie nods, sniffing. She wipes the wetness off her cheeks. Yumiko leads the way up the stairs to Tara’s bedroom. She pauses at the door. “Wait here a moment.” She goes inside, leaving Maggie to sway impatiently, tapping her foot lightly. A minute later Yumiko opens the door, motioning her inside.

Maggie walks into the room, beelining to the bed. Her step falters when she reaches it. She sees Rosita’s tired face and welcoming smile. But her eyes drifted to Tara. She was thinner than she had last seen her, too thin with hollowed cheeks and a haunted look. She was pale too, her eyes nearly void of emotion. It was like she had just turned it all off. _She hurt so much she had decided it was better to feel nothing at all._

“Tara?” She stepped closer, reaching a hand out. She touches Tara’s shoulder and she jerked away from her touch like her hand was iron hot. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

Tara finally meets her gaze. “Maggie,” she says in a quiet, cracked voice. Maggie sits on the bed beside her. “Why are you here?” Tara’s bitter question felt like a slap.

“I came for you,” Maggie says in a gentle, controlled voice.

“I don’t need you.”

“You do.”

“I needed you a year ago. It’s too late. You came too late. Where were you weeks ago?” Her eyes filled with angry tears.

Maggie felt that pang in the pit of her stomach. The _regret_.

“I’m here now,” is all she can offer.

“It’s too late. I don’t need you now!” Tara’s voice raises, cracking as her tears shed.

Maggie reaches for her but Tara slaps her hand away. Maggie felt the sting, heard the resounding sound. But she ignored it. she grabbed ahold of Tara’s arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Maggie—” Rosita speaks up with a warning tone and Maggie shakes her head at her.

“Come here. Tara…” She pulls Tara in for a hug, arms tight around her. Tara strains, trying to pull away.

“No, you left! You left! You left me, you left him! you just left!” Tara yells at her, hitting her arm and trying to pull back. Maggie doesn’t let go. “You left! You just left!” She lets out a strangled sob.

“I know. I know I did. And I—I will regret that every day. I will, I always will. I know I left you, I wish I hadn’t. I wish I was there for you, but I wasn’t. but I’m here now. I’m here.”

“You left,” Tara cries.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Maggie manages to say through her own tears. Not fearing that the other girl would bolt, she loosened her iron hold to rub a hand up and down Tara’s back soothingly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Tara slumped in Maggie’s arms, breaking down in sobs. She cried for her feelings of being abandoned, for Jesus, for her pain and the relief that despite everything that happened, she was in the arms of the only other person beside Rosita she loved more than anything.

She was hurt and angry, at the world, at Maggie for leaving.

But she was back. She was home. And she felt one of the many shattered pieces fall back in place.


	4. Truth

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Maggie asks in a soft, gentle voice.

Tara shakes her head. “No,” comes out, barely audible.

The two of them were sitting on Tara’s bed. Once Tara had calmed down from her breakdown, she had quickly pulled away from Maggie’s embrace much to her dismay. She has scooted back to Rosita’s, curling up into herself in Ro’s arms. Rosita was clearly Tara’s safe place, and with her around it was as if Maggie didn’t exist. Maggie knew she wouldn’t get a peep out of Tara in Rosita’s presence, so after making sure she’d be alright Rosita had stepped out of the room hesitantly per Maggie’s request.

Maggie reached a hand out, and when Tara didn’t flinch away from her, she moved her whole body slowly closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. A shuddering sigh left Tara and she leaned into Maggie, resting her head on her shoulder after a moment.

“Did Hershel come with you?” Tara asks quietly after a while.

“He did,” Maggie smiles at her son’s name. “I can bring her up later. If you’d like?”

She feels Tara nod against her shoulder. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Alden brought him to play with Jerry’s kids earlier.”

“Ezra will like that. He’s surrounded by girls and doesn’t have any boys close to his age to play with.”

Maggie unconsciously rubs a hand up and down her arm soothingly. “I bet he will.”

Tara just hums, falling silent for a moment. Then, “you came when you got the letter.”

“I did.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“The letter said you needed me, that you were hurt and Jesus was… I know I just up and left, but I can’t stay away knowing what happened. I didn’t even consider not coming. The moment I read it I knew I had to come. I wanted to come.”

“I was mad that you ever left.”

“I know.”

“I know why you did go. But I’m still a little mad.”

“I know. And that’s okay.”

“I know what I said, but it’s not your fault. If you were here you’d probably be in Jesus’ place. Or worse. I don’t blame you.”

“It’d be okay if you did.”

“I know. But I don’t.”

“None of it’s your fault either.”

Tara doesn’t answer. She snuggles closer against Maggie, though. Maggie holds her close with both arms, not saying a word. She didn’t know what else to say that would help, but she did know that holding her close helped. That’s just what she did.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“Did you have fun, baby?” Maggie asks when she picked Hershel up from Jerry’s. He swung their joined hands back and forth.

“Yeah!” He jumps a step excitedly. “Ezra has some really cool airplane toys. And his sister isn’t that annoying. The baby is, though.”

“She cried a lot?”

“Yep.”

“So did you.”

“Really? Like super annoying crying?”

“Super annoying. Your Aunt Tara would sleep over just so she could wake up when you did so I could get some real sleep,” she tells him with a joking smile. He laughs.

“I miss Aunt Tara,” he says once his giggles doe down. He looks up at her with big brown eyes. “When can we visit her? You said she’d be here.”

“She is here.”

“Then when?”

“How about…now?”

He breaks out in a huge smile and practically drags her to Barrington House. He tries to run up the stairs but she anchors him down. “We’ll go up and see her. But I gotta explain something so sit.” He plops down, eager to get the talk over with. “Alright. You remember what I told you on the drive here?”

“You said Aunt Tara was hurt bad.”

“Yeah. Well she was. She doesn’t have any big cuts or broken bones. It’s her mind that was hurt.”

“Like scared real bad?”

“Kind of, yeah. Something very bad happened and she saw it happen and it hurt her bad.”

“How does a hurt mind get fixed? Cause cuts heal. Do minds heal?”

“They can, overtime. Lots of love and patience helps.”

“I got lots and lots and lots of love to give.”

“I’m counting on that,” Maggie says with a gentle smile. “For right now, give her lots of love, but have patience. You can’t jump on her or run around or make a lot of noises. At least not tonight.”

“So gentle and quiet and give love?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that, Mama.”

“Good, baby. We can go up now.”

Hershel jumped up, racing up the stairs. Maggie laughed and followed him. He stops at the top, waiting for her. She guides him down the hall to Tara’s room. She lets Hershel knock and a moment later Rosita opens the door.

“Hi!” Hershel smiles up at her.

“Hi,” Rosita says back. “I’ll be back after dinner,” she tells Maggie. Maggie nods. Rosita steps out of the room and Maggie stepped in it.

“Aunt Tara!” Hershel yelled, momentarily forgetting the rules. It had been a long year without seeing his family. He slaps his hand over his mouth, “oopsies.”

That drew a chuckle out of Tara, a sound Maggie wasn’t sure when she’d hear again. Maggie smiled, following Hershel to the bed. Hershel climbs up on the bed.

“I want to jump on you. But Mama said I can’t.”

“Hershel!” Maggie exclaims but this time she heard a laugh, a genuine laugh, and her exasperation melted away.

“It’s okay. Come on,” Tara says, reaching for him. So in typical Hershel style, he leaped into her arms, an _oof!_ coming from Tara. Maggie shakes her head with a light laugh.

Hershel hugs her tightly, and mumbles into her neck, “I missed you lots, Aunt Tara.”

Tara squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, hugging him back just as tightly. “I missed you, too, bud.”

Maggie smiled sadly, wondering why they ever left at all. She had run from old memories and fear of the inevitable, but she was realizing now that running cost them a year of memories like this. Some of her favorite memories were of Tara and Hershel, and she knew this one would be added to them.

She scoots over to them. “Can I join in? I’m feeling kinda lonely over here.”

“Of course, Mama.” Hershel opened an arm for her and she lets him wrap it around her neck. She closes her eyes, letting herself bask in the love of her child and closest friend.

“I’m never running away again, I’m not going anywhere you’re not,” she whispered against Tara’s hair. Whether she was saying that for Tara or herself, she wasn’t quite sure. But she was certain it was the truth. 


	5. Right Here

_The smell of mold filled her nose, her senses feeling distorted. She felt disoriented. She blinked, trying to focus. That’s when she realized that she was laying on a hard, damp floor instead of her bed back home. She wasn’t at Hilltop._

_Next thing she was aware of was her hands were bound tightly behind her back. She sat up so quickly that her head spun. And she looked into the eyes of Alpha. She wanted to scream. The woman held up a sword that was dripping in blood. Her eyes drifted and saw the bodies laying on the barn floor, the floor around them stained scarlet._

_There were too many bodies. Bile rose in her throat when the warm blood spread and touched her boots._

_She didn’t want to look. But something tugged at her and she looked closer at the bodies. And a sob ripped through her throat._

_She sees familiar cowboy boots and jeans, a light button up but gone was the head with crystal blue eyes and shoulder length brown locks. Beside her body was a small one, a child’s. A child who once had wispy deep brown hair and Glenn’s eyes. But those bodies held nothing to the next one. Leather boots, black leggings and the telltale leather jacket._

_Alpha’s cruel smile caused her to shudder through her cries and a head was tossed carelessly, rolling towards her. Long, wavy black hair was strewn across the crimson floor, brown eyes glassed over and lifeless, lips blue on a deathly pale face._

_She screamed. And she didn’t stop._

_“Tara? Tara!”_

_She couldn’t stop. She was soaked in her blood._

_“Tara!”_

_The head—Rosita’s head—changed. Growls left her lips, dead eyes staring up at her hungrily. She felt an overwhelming urge to somehow pull her hands from her binds and put the love of her life down. She deserved better than to turn into a_ monster _._

_“Tara!”_

_Before she could, she felt a cold blade slice at her throat. She felt a flash of overwhelming pain and hot blood pouring down her throat to her chest. She gurgled on her blood, just praying for oxygen. She was choking on her own blood, she was_ dying. _And in her final moments, she realized that she was going to turn too. That was the one thing she never wanted to happen—to be one of_ them _._

_“TARA!”_

Her eyes snap open and she screams. She feels arms wrapping around her, restricting her. _Not again._ “No! No!” She fights, trying to claw her way away from the constricting grip. She wouldn’t go back, she _couldn’t_. She wouldn’t let them take her again. They had already taken _enough_. “No, _please!_ ”

She was choking on her sobs, finding it harder to breathe. She stops clawing at her attacker, hand going to her throat, expecting to feel blood gushing and a smile curved through the flesh but felt nothing but her own skin, no blood, no slashes. 

_“Tara!”_ The muffled voice from before was back, but it was focused and right in her ear. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but she stopped fighting. She gave into the hysterical sobs ripping through her.

“Tara, it’s okay. It’s okay, love. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Rosita. “Breathe, Tara. You can do it. Breathe in…Tara. Inhale, one, two, three.” She tried her best to do what she said but it was _so_ hard.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

_You’re safe._

_I’m at Hilltop. This is my room, my bed. Rosita is here. Rosita is holding me._

She wrapped her arms around her friend tightly, digging her nails into her shoulder as she clung to her for dear life. Rosita rubbed a hand up and down her back in a soothing rhythm, her other hand on the back on Tara’s head, nails scratching her scalp lightly. Tara sobbed into the crook of her neck, allowing Rosita to comfort her. She feels Rosita press a kiss to the top of her head. Little did she know how much Rosita’s heart was breaking.

“Can you try breathing for me, Tara?” Tara nods against her shoulder. “Inhale, one, two three…” Tara draws a breath through her nose sharply. “Exhale, one, two, three.” She lets out a shaky breath. “Again. You can do it.”

While she focuses on her breathing, on grounding herself to desperately keep herself afloat, Rosita slowly leans back until she’s laying back against the pillows. Tara is half on her, face still hiding in the crook of her neck, body quivering in fear. She wraps her arm around her protectively, as if she could protect her from the demons haunting her, her other hand continuing to stroke her hair.

She holds her until Tara’s tears subside and her breathing returns to some semblance of normal. And when she eventually drifts off into a restless but uneventful sleep, she holds her still.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

When Tara come to in the morning, the first thing that registers in her mind is that she’s in Rosita’s arms. She remembered her horrific nightmare and Rosita waking her and calming her down from it. But she hadn’t expected her to stay, let alone hold her through the night. She lifts her head from it’s position on the other girl’s chest. She looks at her, seeing her brow furrowed lightly in her sleep and she feels the guilt gnawing at her.

_I did this._

Rosita stirs and her eyes flutter open when she feels Tara’s eyes boring into her. Her face softens when her tired eyes meet Tara’s ashamed ones “Hey,” she says softly, tentatively.

“Hey,” Tara whispers. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. Rosita sits up beside her, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rosita asks in confusion.

“For waking you up last night.”

“Tara, I’m _glad_ I got woken up. You _needed_ me! Don’t you ever be sorry about that,” she wraps her arms around her, pulling her in close. “You have to talk about it at some point, Tara. I know you want to be strong and think you’ll be a burden if you unload everything, but it’s getting worse. You’re nightmares and anxiety is getting _so_ much worse. You need to talk about what happened.”

“I know,” Tara admits, her voice breaking a little. “I have the same nightmare every night, but this time was different.”

“Tell me about it?”

She draws in a shaky breath and nods jerkily against Rosita’s shoulder. “It was the same. It started the same. I was in the barn, the same one she dragged us all to. It was cold and wet and _terrifying_ ,” she doesn’t even try to wipe at the tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “ _She_ was there. That—that… _monster._ And the blood, there was _so much_ blood. Bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere. But this time, Ozzy and Tammy Rose and Enid and the others weren’t there. Everyone _else_ was. Jesus, Dianne, Yumiko. And then Maggie and Hershel. And…” she chokes back a sob when she replays the terror in her head. “And _you_.”

“I’m right here,” Rosita breathes.

“And…and instead of being at the pikes, the heads were on the floor and started to wake up. And she…she threw yours at me and I couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything about it. And I heard your voice calling me. And then…then she slashed mine. And I woke up. And you were here.”

Rosita rubs her back as she calms herself down. “I’m here, I’ll always be here. We will find that bitch and make her pay for what she did to everyone. What she did to you. that’s a promise.”

Tara nods against her.

“What happened in your nightmare…is that what happened to _them?_ ”

“Mostly. We were all at that barn. But when I woke up there everyone was alive. And Ozzy and DJ and Alek found us. We fought, we all did. We tried _so hard_. We killed some of them but when she came she brought others and there were too many. We got brought to our knees and watched as they were dragged to the middle one by one. She cut their heads off, and she smiled so cruelly. I couldn’t watch Enid… _I couldn’t_. And she…she whispered to me to _tell them_ and then everything went black,” she sobbed.

“I got you. I got you,” Rosita promises.

“When I woke back up, I was alone. And Daryl and Michonne and Yumiko and Carol, the found me. And we found the pikes and they were all—they were gone. They _turned_. I couldn’t do anything about it. And I fainted I guess, and next thing I knew I was at The Kingdom and you were there with me.”

“I should’ve been with you all along,” Rosita says sadly, regret deep in her voice.

Tara sniffs, swiping at her cheeks and looks up at her. “But you’re here now. _That’s_ what matters. That’s what matters to _me_.”

“I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere. I found my place in the world,” the last part comes out barely a whisper.

“Tara smiles through her tears, resting her head back on her shoulder. “I know.”


	6. A Place in the World

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Tara nods. “It’s time.”

Tara had brought up the night before that she felt ready to leave the secluded safety of Barrington house. Her people needed to see her, and frankly she needed to see them. She was still quite a ways from being truly okay, but she was thinking that starting to move forward again would do her some good. Sitting around in her own thoughts and keeping her company strictly to Rosita, Maggie and Hershel, and Yumiko and Magna wasn’t helping her as much as she had hoped. Telling Rosita about what happened _that_ night had helped, and her nightmares weren’t every single night anymore, and her panic attacks had gotten a bit better, but she had a long road ahead of her still.

“And you’re sure?”

“If you stay with me, I am.”

“I won’t leave your side unless you ask.”

“Then I’m sure,” she gives her a small smile. But a genuine smile. Rosita smiles, taking her hand.

“Then let’s go,” she gets up, helping Tara up. Tara shakes her head at her with a gentle chuckle and Rosita leads her to the door. She doesn’t let go of her hand. They head down the stairs together and make their way to the door. Tara squeezes her hand tighter. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just need a second.”

“You can take as long as you need.”

Tara was grateful for Rosita. She always had been. Rosita had been defending her from the moment they met before they even really knew each other. She has a memory pop into her head from many years ago, with a girl in short khaki shorts and a shirt showing a toned belly off, khaki hat and glossy black hair pulled into two ponytails. Of a version of herself who was quiet, shy and broken with baggy clothes and chin length hair that wouldn’t stay out of her downcast face.

_The Walker fell from the top of the tower, Abraham shouting filling their ears. Next thing she knew Eugene was being shoved and she was flung forward, right onto her bad knee. Pain blasted through her knee and she clutched at it._

_“Are you okay?” The other girl, Rosita, asked._

_“I’m fine,” she grunted in pain._

_“We gotta stay here. Who’s going to help me carry her up?” Rosita asked the men. Continuing on wasn’t an option to her. Not with the fall Tara had taken and how pale her face grew, pain written all over it._

_Glenn moved over to her, helping Rosita carefully pull her to her feet. “Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah,” she nods even though she desperately wanted to say_ no _._

_“Do you want to stop or do you want to keep going?”_

_She wanted to stop. She wanted to rest. She longed for the days of ice packs. But her guilt gnawing at her soul caused her to say, “keep going.”_

_“Look,” Glenn says to the others, ignoring Rosita’s livid face, “if she can keep going we can all keep going. Or you guys can stay here. You don’t need us, we don’t need you. It’s okay.”_

_“Wow,” Rosita shakes her head in disbelief. “You are an_ ass _. She will do whatever you say because she thinks she owes you. Man up! Just stay here for a few hours!”_

_Glenn gave her look before turning to Abraham, disregarding Rosita who scoffs. He makes a deal with the general, offering to give Eugene his riot gear in exchange to them staying on the road until sundown. “Everyone wins.”_

_“Except her!” Rosita points to her, her disbelief more prominent than ever. She understood Glenn wanted to find his wife, but not at the cost of Tara's wellbeing._

_“You’re not her mama,” Abraham butts in, looking at Tara. The two share a silent look of understanding. They both had missions, and although he didn’t want the girl injuring herself further, he understood. “If she says she can walk, she can walk.”_

_Rosita shaking her head angrily with a set face at her boyfriend was a look Tara had seared to her brain. Desperate to go against her boyfriend to defend a girl she just met._

Tara smiles at the memory, looking at Rosita. “I’m ready now.”

Rosita gives her hand a gentle squeeze and opens the door. She doesn’t make a move to release Tara's hand, and Tara doesn’t either. They leave Barrington house, hand in hand. They see heads glance their way when they make their way away from the house and out in the open space of Hilltop.

“Just want to stay out here a little bit, talk a little with the people?” Rosita asks her. 

Tara nods. “Yeah. I just need some semblance of normal back in my life, y’know?”

“I know.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

Earl Sutton was the first to approach them. He had circles under his eyes, pain set deep in his eyes. But he kept moving forward and living. Tara was certain it was for the baby cradled in his arms who Tammy Rose was adamant of keeping and raising themselves. 

“Its good to see you out here,” he murmurs. “Maggie has been doing good out here, and she’s good at the job, but I’ve always been more partial to you and Jesus.”

Tara smiles softly. “I know.”

“Nothing knew on him?”

Tara shakes her head, looking down. “No. Nothing yet. He hadn’t gotten worse, but he hasn’t gotten any better either.”

“That’s a shame. I still got hope he’ll wake up.”

“I do, too. Nobody’s giving up on here. He’s the true leader here anyways.”

“You’re a true leader, too.”

“Nah. I do better behind the scenes. Doing all the work while he’s the face of the community.”

“Sounds like a good leader to me.”

Tara shrugs with a small, genuine laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.” The feeling of Rosita running her thumb over her hand helped relax her and she was falling into conversation with ease. She was starting to feel more like herself. “I kind of miss it a bit. I’m not ready, not yet. But I’m not going anywhere. When I’m able to, I’ll be here doing all of Jesus’ work whether he’s awake or still in the coma.”

“That’s…that’s good to hear. A relief. None of us thought you were done, we all knew you’d be back when you could. You said so when you cam home but you seemed kind of in shock then. But hearing you say it now, it’s good to hear.” He looks down at baby Adam who coos. “Wanna hold him?”

“Oh…I—I’d love to,” she says, slight shock in her tone. Rosita chuckles at her awkwardness.

Tara reluctantly releases Rosita’s hand to hold the baby. Earl transfers the Adam into her waiting arms. She looks down at him, his vibrant blue eyes meeting her own. He smiles, showing off his first few teeth, his cheeks dimpling. Tara strokes his soft strawberry blonde hair back.

“He’s so handsome.”

“He is, ain’t he?”

“I almost forgot what it feels like to hold a baby,” she chuckles. “Last baby I held must’ve been Hershel, and Judith before that. They’re far from being babies now.”

“You’re more than welcome to hold him whenever you like. He likes you and he’d love all the attention he can get.”

“I might just take you up at that,” she says, her voice happier than Rosita’s heard in a while. “I love babies so much.”

Rosita shuffles, biting her lip. She knew she had to tell her. She had been worried to for weeks, worried about how she’d react. But seeing her with baby Adam, she knew it was time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“I’m glad to see you down here,” Maggie says when the two show up to her trailer. She had been offered her old room in Barrington house, but she had kindly refused. She invited them in and Hershel peeks his head out of the bedroom to see who his mother was talking to.

“Aunt Tara!” He ran full speed over, jumping on her, nearly knocking her over.

“Hey, buddy,” Tara laughs, pulling him up into a hug.

Maggie exchanged a smile with Rosita. She hadn’t heard Tara laugh in so long, and it was music to goth their ears. “I was just cooking if you two want to stay for dinner?”

The two share a look and Tara nods. She didn’t expect Hershel to let her leave anytime soon anyways, and she hadn’t realized how hungry she felt until Maggie had mentioned food. “We’d love to,” Rosita answers. She sees Hershel pull Tara towards the bedroom, talking about showing her his favorite toys. Tara looks back at her, nodding that she’ll be okay with him.

“Want any help?” She asks Maggie, letting Tara have some quality time with Hershel and not wanting to just sit around.

“That’d be great,” Maggie answers. They two walk into the kitchen area.

“That smells amazing,” Rosita comments when the aroma reaches her nose. She peeks into the pot boiling on the stove. Maggie pushes some vegetable and a knife towards her.

“Rabbit stew, Hershel’s favorite.”

“It was Glenn’s, too,” Rosita remembers. “He’s always save some and bring it to Tara because she loved it, too.”

“Did he?” Maggie asks, a sad smile on her face. It hurt to talk about Glenn still, but hearing a story she had never heard before of him was something she could not pass up.

“He did. You only made it when it was the two of you. It was a special dinner for you both. You always brought Daryl some for lunch because he specifically hunted down extra rabbits for you. But Glenn would save some for what he’d say was his own lunch during his shift but he actually brought it to Tara.”

“Why’d he keep that a secret? I would’ve made extra for her like I did for Daryl.”

“I don’t know. Tara didn’t either. I think he just wanted a special routine. He loved you more than anything. But he loved Tara, too. Just in a different way. He was protective of her and he would’ve dies protecting her. He was an ass at first, but later, she was his best friend. And he was hers. But I know that’s one of the memories she treasures most of him.”

Maggie smiles sadly, chopping vegetables. Rosita starts chopping hers too. “She probably has a lot more stories, if you ever want to talk about him with anyone.”

“You think she’s more likely to talk about Glenn than what happened to her?”

Rosita hesitates. “Yeah.”

Maggie’s hand stills and she looks at her, eyes widening. “She told you about what she went through. Didn’t she?”

Rosita nods. “She did.”

“What did she say?”

“It’s not really my place to say…”

“Of course not,” Maggie sighs.

“Give her time. She’ll tell you eventually. And probably at the most unexpected time. So just keep being patient with her. I am still. She’s getting there. She’s shoved so much down for so long and focused on everyone but herself so many times that she’s still learning how to care about herself. But she will get there. we’re getting her back.

Maggie smiled at her gratefully, nodding. “I have a lot of practice with patience so I can be patient as long as I need to be.”

After that they continued chopping in comfortable silence and cooked the stew, some idle chatter between them. And they chatted quietly and contently until the dinner was ready and Tara and Hershel joined them.

And they had relaxed idle chatter even then.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

“Thank you for today,” Tara says to Rosita that night. The two were sitting beside each other on Tara’s bed.

“Anything for you,” Rosita says, smiling a sweet smile reserved only for Tara.

The two look into each other’s eyes, and Tara is at loss for words. They just stare at each other for a moment and Tara remembers Rosita’s _“I found my place in the world.”_ She wasn’t sure what Rosita had meant by that, whether she meant as best friends or something more. Tara wasn’t sure if she could take the rejection, but not knowing was killing her. So like earlier, she took the other woman’s hand in her own. “Ro…”

“Tara, stop,” Rosita says quickly.

She wishes she could take it back when she sees Tara’s face fall as she closes her eyes in defeat. Rosita’s frowns, reaching out and stroking Tara’s cheek, causing her to reopen her eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…I think I know what you’re going to say. And I need to tell you something important first.”

“Are you in a relationship with someone?” Tara asks in a quiet voice.

“No! I mean, there was a fling with Gabriel before the fair, but it was nothing more. And I ended it before what happened to everyone happened.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m…I’m pregnant.”

Tara’s eyes widen, taken aback. She was not expecting her to say that of all things. “You’re…pregnant?”

Rosita nods silently.

“Who’s?”

“Siddiq…”

Tara tears up and she silently curses herself. She understood why Rosita never told her. Siddiq who was abducted with her. Siddiq who was beheaded. Siddiq who’s zombified head was put on a pike for the world to see.

“I’m s—”

“No, don’t. Don’t say sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I kept meaning to tell you, but I never knew when to. When the time was right.”

“And the times right now?”

“I was scared of how you’d react. But seeing you with Adam earlier…I finally wanted to tell you. But I was still scared to. But, with what I’m sure you were about to say, I have to tell you. Because it’s not fair not to. Before you say anything you need to know what you’d be getting yourself into.”

“Are you still scared?”

“Terrified,” Rosita laughs.

Tara smiles. “Don’t be. And that doesn’t change anything. At least about what I was going to say.”

Rosita smiles, in relief, in happiness. “You wanna say it?”

Tara bites her lip. “I was going to say…I still have feelings for you. the same ones from years ago. Just…a lot more magnified.”

“Magnified to like a lot?” Rosita asks, a playful smirk on her lips.

Tara looks down. “Magnified to maybe love…”

Rosita’s heart swells. She takes Tara’s chin, tilting her head up to meet her eyes. “I have feelings too. I did for a long time. And I think I maybe love you, too.” Tara gives her a small, meek smile. “Now I have something really important to ask.”

“What?”

“May I kiss you?”

There it was. Tara’s smirk, the one Rosita had been waiting for since she awoke. “I thought you would never ask.”

Rosita leaned in, capturing Tara’s lips with her own. She kissed her soft and sweet, heart soaring. Her lips were softer than she ever imagined, she hands on her cheek, her jaw, was the gentlest touch she had ever experienced. To Tara, this was a moment she had been hoping to have for as long as she could remember. And little did she knew, it was the same for Rosita.

Tara kissed passionately, gently. She held Rosita’s face like she was fragile. She kissed her like she would disappear if she stopped. She feels Rosita’s hand on the back of her head, fingers scratching her scalp slightly. She kissed her until they parted for air. Tara rests her forehead against Rosita’s, feeling her breath against her lips.

“Can we take things slow?” Tara asks softly.

“Whatever you need.” It was a promise. “Does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

“Good,” Rosita laughs elatedly before pressing her lips to Tara’s once again.

They were blissful, happy. They were each other’s place in the world.


	7. That's My Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to be updated! My mom was really sick from COVID and i haven't been in the headspace to write the last few weeks. But I'm back for regular updates!

Rosita woke up to the light filtering in through the window, a smile forming at the weight against her. Tara had shifted in her sleep, her arms laying across her stomach, her head on her shoulder. She felt soft breaths on the crook of her neck, telling her that Tara was still asleep—a peaceful sleep at that.

She doesn’t want to wake her, but she needs to get up. She rubs her hand up and down Tara’s arm gently until the other woman stirs. She feels her shift and her head lifts.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rosita whispers.

Tara lips tug up in a smile. “Hey, that’s my line.”

Rosita chuckles. “It can be our line.”

“Okay,” Tara whispers softly. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Rosita smiles into the kiss, stroking her cheek.

“I need to get ready for the day.”

“Mm. Must you?”

“I must,” Rosita says reluctantly. “I promised Yumiko and Dianne.”

“I want to go with you.”

“Are you sure?” Her brow furrows a little. “We’re talking about preparations for winter and about any Whisperer sightings. Are you ready for that?”

“I need to be. Maggie took charge but they’re still _my_ people. I’m not ready to go outside the walls on a scouting mission, but I can talk with our friends.”

“Okay. If you do need to step out…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Rosita nods, “good.”

The two get up, dressing in clothes. They’d both be lying if they had said they hadn’t sneaked a peak at the other. Rosita in her black leggings, loose shirt that hid the slightly visible baby bump Tara hadn’t noticed before, her black leather jacket pulled over her arms with her feet shoved in leather boots. Tara’s style was much different—jeans, a long sleeve black shirt, worn navy jacket and a pair of old cowboy boots. Rosita brushes her long black waves, tying it back into a high ponytail. Tara just pulls her own long brown hair up in a messy bun.

“Ready?” Rosita asks. Tara nods, holding her hand out. Rosita takes her hand, giving it a squeeze before leading her out of the room. _Tara’s_ room, but Rosita secretly called it _their_ room.

They left Barrington house, fingers interlocked. Tara’s free hand was wrapped around Rosita’s arm. She was an anchor, holding her in place when the faces and thoughts and dreams wanted to send her flying every which way. She got less stares—the more she left the shelter of Barrington House and the longer Maggie was there as interim leader, the less looks she got. They were all settling into a new normal. The world had continued turning without her.

The walk through Hilltop was peaceful, quiet buzz of the residents going about their day sounding in their ears. Children’s laughter, a stray whinny from the horse being lunged in the pen, metallic sound of horseshoes being made by Earl Sutton. They find Yumiko, Magna and Dianne up on the guard post overlooking the farming and corn field outside of the walls.

Rosita climbs up, Tara climbing up after her. The three women greet Rosita with a smile. “Oh, hey!” Yumiko’s smile grows when she sees Tara appear behind the other woman.

“Hey,” Tara smiles, hands folding inside of her jacket sleeves. Rosita puts a hand on her back, guiding her forward away from the edge.

“How are you feeling?” It’s Magna this time, voice soft and melodic.

“Better.” And it’s an honest answer, with Rosita’s help she was recovering quicker than she would have without her. She had a ways to go, but her nightmares were much less than before, and her panic attacks were much less frequent.

“That’s good.”

“You told her what we’re here to discuss?” Dianne asks, looking between the two with some concern.

“I did,” Rosita nods.

“And you’re okay with it?” Her question is directed to Tara, who nods. “Alright. We were going to ask Maggie to come, but she has a lot going on so we want to have a discussion before bringing it to her.”

“Which sounds good. I told Maggie we were meeting and she seemed kind of grateful that we’re discussing things and not dropping a load of issues at her feet,” Yumiko says.

“A load of issues?” Tara asks.

“Winter is coming, and fast,” Dianne says. “We’re harvesting as much as we can but I have a feeling it’s going to be a harsh winter. We’ve started insulating the trailer homes already, haying the fields to keep the horses going through the winter. We actually found some old blankets we mended for the ones who don’t keep winter coats. We aren’t too worried about the cows, but we need to figure out what to do about the pigs and chickens. It’s already colder than ever this early.”

“We’re worried about the crops dying faster than we can harvest. And with the fire at the Kingdom we have more people here than we’re used to and they cant live in pitched tents throughout winter,” Magna finishes.

“So we open up Barrington house. There’s several empty bedrooms and even a few offices we can convert. It’s not ideal but we can fit a family per room. See if there’s any single people or couples who can open their trailer homes to others,” Tara suggests.

Dianne nods thoughtfully. “That will definitely help a lot. And worst case scenario we can have people camp out in the common areas of Barrington if we run out of rooms.”

Rosita nods. “Bedrooms and offices go to families first, especially those with young children.”

“Can we build a greenhouse?” Yumiko asks suddenly. “If we have everyone work double time, will we have one ready in time?”

“How do you even _build_ one?” Dianne asks.

“Well, we’d build a big frame. Get windows out of old houses all around and fit them. Controlling the environment would be tricky but we can borrow Eugene for that. Vents are needed I think. And some water system connected to our water flow. It’s a lot of work but it’ll also mean we can keep growing year round. Not the corn, but the other stuff.”

“I’ll pitch that to Alden,” Dianne offers.

“So, we have ideas for housing and farming,” Yumiko says, glancing at Tara before continuing, “any Whisperer sightings?”

Dianne and Magna shake their heads. “None. Michonne thinks they may have migrated for the winter. No sign of the horde either. But there’s fears they’ll return come warm weather but right now we just have to play it by ear.”

“I heard Carol took off,” Magna adds. “Talked to Cyndie at Oceanside, apparently she goes out fishing with them now on long trips on the rigs. Her and Ezekiel split I think.”

Tara looks down. _Carol_ , who lost another child. She lost everything she had. Her child, her marriage, her home.

“And what of the Whisperer girl?” Yumiko asks.

“She’s in Alexandria,” Dianne says. “She lives with Daryl at Michonne’s. She’s a non-issue, just a scared kid. She’s one hundred percent on our side, she's the one who said her mother's people tend to migrate. Says she usually doesn't stay anywhere long or return to the very same place, but she's not certain her mom would permanently leave, not with her in Alexandria. She doesn't know how much her might actually want her back or how much of a grudge she'd hold against the coalition. Especially since she claimed territory.”

“Good,” Tara says softly. “She’s better off with Daryl. Her mother is a _monster_.” She feels Rosita’s hand running up and down her arm. She didn’t know if she would be okay seeing the girl anytime soon, but she knew she was an innocent child and was glad she was safe at least. Nobody deserved a mother as cruel and heartless as Alpha.

“Should we do a scouting mission?” Magna asks and Tara tenses.

“No,” Rosita shakes her head quickly. “No use going out and looking for trouble.” She gives them a look, knowing what they were going to say next. They wanted to discuss whether to go beyond the border, to risk it if they were gone. The border that was marked by their loved ones pikes. She knew the topic had to be discussed, but not in front of Tara. “We’ll go relay back to Maggie,” Rosita offers.

“Good idea,” Magna nods, understanding the look. “We'll talk to Alden, maybe call Eugene on the radio and see if it’s plausible.”

“Alright, we'll check in later,” Rosita nods. She and Tara made their way down from the platform.

“I know what you did,” Tara whispers to her as they make their way to Maggie’s. Rosita gives her a questioning look. "They were going to keep talking about the Whisperers. Hunting was next on the list, wasn’t it?”

Rosita finally nods. “It was. We have to update Maggie anyways, and I figured you had enough talk for the moment so we left early.”

Tara observes her, before, “thank you.”

“We need to work on you telling me when you’re too uncomfortable. I’m good at reading you but I’m not a mind reader.”

“I know,” she admits with a sigh. “I’m not good at admitting when I’m not great.”

“I know. I’m not either,” she laughs. Tara joins in.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“Okay, so Eugene’s being consulted about the greenhouse and Barrington House will be opened for the Kingdom’s people?” Maggie asks after the couple updates her.

“Correct,” Rosita nods.

“You should take one of the rooms in the house,” Tara speaks up.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Maggie says with a shake of her head.

“You wouldn’t. Your old room is empty. Or there’s Rosita’s room, she practically lives with me, anyways,” she glances at her girlfriend. “Unless you want to keep your room?”

Rosita has a big smile on her face. “No, no. I prefer your room much more.”

“Yours is bigger.”

“Yours has _you_.”

“Woah, woah. When did this happen?” Maggie gestures between them. “Sharing a room, flirting? Are you two… _together?”_

Tara nods sheepishly. “Yeah…I wasn’t keeping it from you, I swear, we were just enjoying it before everyone knowing, and I haven’t seen you since we had dinner the other night.”

“And it literally happened that night after we came back home after dinner,” Rosita joins in.

Maggie smiles, leaning over and wrapping Tara in a hug. After she reached for Rosita, hugging her. “I’m happy for the two of you, truly. I’m only surprised it took this long. Y’know, I only watched you two cast looks at each other for years.”

“Maybe it would’ve happened sooner. I don’t know. There was Abraham, then Tara had Denise. Then they both died and I was angry. And when I was finally not angry anymore, Jesus kidnapped her and took her here.”

“He didn’t _kidnap_ me,” Tara laughs.

“Oh, he _did_. Just because you were a willing victim doesn’t mean he didn’t steal you away.”

Tara shakes her head, laughing.

They’re interrupted by a rapid knocking on the door. Maggie gets up and opens the door. Aaron walks in when he sees Tara in the background. He’s panting, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead like he had run to Maggie’s from somewhere.

“Aaron what is it?” Maggie asks in a concerned voice. Tara stands up and hears Rosita rise behind her.

He looks directly at Tara when he says, “you need to come. It’s Jesus.”


	8. Good News, Bad News

_Aaron’s panting, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead like he had run to Maggie’s from somewhere._

_“Aaron what is it?” Maggie asks in a concerned voice. Tara stands up and hears Rosita rise behind her._

_He looks directly at Tara when he says, “you need to come. It’s Jesus.”_

Tara blinks, once, twice. And then it clicks. _Something happened_. Was he dead, the trauma and coma finally taking him away?

“Wh— _what?”_ She tries to comprehend what to say, what to feel. She couldn’t take another loss. She feels Rosita’s hands plant on her shoulder.

“Come,” is all he says, reaching out and grabbing her hand. He tugs her forward and her brain clicks, letting her body move. She runs after him, heart pounding. _Maybe he woke up,_ her mind tells her. _Maybe whatever was keeping him in that coma was gone and he came back_. She shakes her head, not wanting potentially false hope. She couldn’t that another loss.

They head into the infirmary, and Tara stops dead in her tracks.

_“Oh my god.”_

“Hey, T,” His voice is raspier than usual—he’d been under so long with just an IV hydrating him so she can only imagine the rawness of his throat. She notes the half drunken pitcher of water on the nightstand beside his bed.

She unfreezes, her face breaking into a big smile, a relived and teary eyed smile. She lets go of her vice grip on Aaron’s hand and she’s moving towards him without a second thought. She throws her arms around him and feels him embrace her tightly in return. She was certain he was holding onto her more than she was to him, like he was afraid to let her go, like she was an anchor to the land of the living.

She didn’t want to let go. She buried her face in his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck and her hands grasp his shirt. When she feels his hand rub her back in circles, whether to soothe himself or her she did not know, she finally felt the dams open and the tears she had been holding back were finally let loose.

She heard footsteps depart, letting her have her moment. And she just held onto him like a lifeline and cried until she had run out of tears.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

“Maggie? You’re back?” Jesus asks when he sees the former leader walk into the infirmary later that night.

He had been lonely since Tara had left. Rosita had come and coaxed her away, and he made note of that, of both. Of Tara, unruly and loud and fierce, not speaking a word no matter how hard he tried. And of Rosita being here, seeming even closer to Tara than he was. And now here was Maggie, who had left with no intention of returning. He didn’t think it was from him getting attacked; Tara’s reaction and Maggie and Rosita’s return seemed too big for that.

“I am.”

“Are you visiting?”

She shakes her head, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m back. I’m leading Hilltop again.”

“I would’ve thought Tara would’ve taken over in my absence,” he remembered the girl practically doing everything but being the face of the operation before. He didn’t want it, but he took it. She didn’t want the title, but she did the work—talked to everyone, took every complaint both little and big, filed everything for him, and made the community thrive.

“She _did._ ”

He frowned at Maggie’s half answers. Like she was afraid to just tell him everything upright. “Then why are you here?”

“Jesus, something happened.”

“What?” He asks, sitting up taller. He wasn’t liking this.

“You got stabbed, by someone dressed as a walker. When Rosita said that there were walkers who were speaking, it wasn’t evolution. It was a group of awful people who dressed and walked in hordes. After you were attacked, they captured one but it was just a scared, abused kid. Daryl has the girl now in Alexandria. These people were ruthless and cruel and wanted all our land.”

“So it’s an enemy group that moves with the _dead?_ ” He asks slowly.

Maggie nods. “We had the fair go on still, well I wasn’t there. I wasn’t back yet. But all of the others went. Tara went with Hilltop, Michonne with Alexandria, Rachel with Oceanside. At the fair the enemy infiltrated and took eleven of our people.”

Jesus stared at her incredulously. _How much had he missed?_

“They took Ozzy and Alek—I never met them, Tara said they were a new group they encountered who joined them. DJ, Siddiq and Frankie from Alexandria. Tammy Rose Sutton, two teens—Adeline and Rodney, Enid, Carol’s son Henry, and… _Tara_.”

“Tara? They got _Tara?_ Wait, I haven’t seen Enid…”

“Enid’s gone, Jesus,” she says with a sob. She had loved Enid like a daughter, and it still hurt every day that the girl was gone.

_“No…”_

“They um…they took them. And they killed them. They beheaded them and let them turn. They marked a border and put their turned heads on pikes. They killed them all in front of Tara and they left her alive as an example, for her to deliver a message.”

“Oh, god. No, no. This can’t…this can’t be real…”

“I wish it wasn’t,” Maggie chokes out. “I _so_ wish it wasn’t.”

“That’s why she wasn’t herself.”

Maggie nods. “She’s a lot better than she was after it happened. She’s still not great…but I’m not scared of her losing herself anymore. Rosita helps her a lot. Those two are inseparable.”

“I noticed that,” he comments, taking a shaky breath. This was all so overwhelming to him. “Are they together?”

“That’s not really my place to say…”

“You just dropped a huge bomb on me, give me some good news.”

“Okay, fine. They are…but you didn’t hear that from me.” She wipes at her face. “They’re still out there.”

“The people who killed them?”

“They call themselves _The Whisperers_. After the fair they disappeared, but there’s a lot of fear that they just migrated for the winter. That they’ll return, why else would they slaughter our people and mark borders?”

“Why not start a war? Why kill, mark, leave and then come back? It doesn’t add up.”

“The kid Daryl has? She’s their leaders daughter.”

“Oh shit. Alexandria is holding the leaders kid hostage?”

“No, she came willingly. She’s terrified of her mother. And they aren’t attacking because Alexandria has her daughter. The kid gets sanctuary, Alexandria gets protection.”

“So a win-win…for now. If those judgmental pricks don’t treat that kid right and she runs away, we’re all screwed, y’know. And we all know Michonne is judgmental and doesn’t trust outsiders. And I like Daryl, I do, but the fate of avoiding a war rests on him raising a child?”

“She’s not a little girl, she’s sixteen.”

“Oh, even _better_. A kid who’s set in her ways and much less likely to fit in. And a lot more likely to run away.”

“It’s good, for _now_. There’s no time to stress over what _may_ happen in the future. Right now we’re taking the win of no Whisperers right _now_ , staying prepared in case they return—and they probably will, especially if she wants her kid back and the territory they fought for—and focusing on making it through the winter.”

“Wait— _winter?_ It was barely September when…how long was I out? Alex only said just under two months?”

“It’s late October. But the temperatures are dropping and quicker than usual. We’re days from a frost. But we have plans.”

“Care to share?”

“The Kingdom burned to the ground, so all their residents moved to here or to Alexandria. They’re all pitched in tents out by the trailer homes.” Jesus groans at that new information. “But we planned to open Barrington House up, all the rooms, the empty offices, even the lobbies if need be. Families get first dibs on the rooms and offices. Yumiko—she’s one of the new group that came here right before you were attacked, I guess, even thought about a year-round greenhouse. Seeing if Alden can build one with his team and Eugene can do the logistics. Going to insulate the chicken coops and the barns. Lots of plans and even more to make them a reality. But we got this. And with you back, no doubt it’ll go smoother. You making it and being awake, that’s good news. And we all need good news. We can do this.”

“I hope you’re right, Maggie. I hope you’re right.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Alex kept Jesus in the infirmary for another week for observation, though the stubborn man had insisted that he was fine. He had frequent visitors in Aaron, Maggie and Tara.

When they had eventually let him go, he was content on returning to him trailer home. But Tara had been insistent on him taking Rosita’s old room. He had tried the _“they’re reserved for families”_ but Maggie had jumped on board, insisting that he take it. After two months of being in a coma, he shouldn’t be alone in a trailer. He had eventually caved and Aaron and Alden had moved all of his belongings into the room between Tara’s and Maggie’s.

He took it as a plus despite never having interest in being in the house before—he could harass Maggie plenty, play with toy trucks with Hershel for hours on end, and try to coax Tara into talking to him.

He was sitting on his bed, reading one of his favorite books, when he heard a tentative knock on the door. He got up and opened it to see Tara looking like she was ready to retreat.

“Hey. Not playing _ding-dong-ditch_ are you?”

That got a smile out of her. “No.”

“Good,” he steps aside to let her in. She walks in, shifting on her feet. “Still a huge fan of Georgie’s books and records, I see.”

“You know I am. You the one to put them in my belongings?”

She nods. “Thought you’d want them when you woke up and I didn’t want them lost.”

“Well, thank you. Sit,” he gestures to the bed before sitting. She shrugs and sits beside him. “And talk.” She just stares at him. “About anything. Ease my boredom, T.”

“Well…I have a girlfriend.”

“Is it, I don’t know, Miss Espinosa who’s always lurking in the background and practically attached to you?”

Her cheeks tint pink and she looks down. “That obvious?”

“Kind of, but I have impeccable gaydar. And I’ve been telling you for years there is no way that she’s straight.”

Tara rolls her eyes. “Yeah I know.”

“Say it.”

“Say wha— _no_.”

“Yes! Say it.”

“No.”

“Tara…Tara…Tara…Tara…”

“Oh my god!” She laughs. “Fine. You were right.”

He breathes in with a cocky smile. “Hearing that was better than hearing Georgie’s records.”

She shoves him, laughing harder than she had in a while. “Shut up!”

He shoves her back. “Make me.”

That went on for a while. The room full of laughter, shoving shoulders and jokes. And eventually the chatter and laughs that made up for a two month absence was joined by music from the record playing.

Rosita didn’t dare knock on the door or even think of complaining of the noise going on into the night. She was happy—happy Jesus’ awakening brought a piece of Tara back that had been missing.

She didn’t even complain that she stayed up late, not sleeping until Tara came back into their room late into the night. She didn’t sleep until Tara’s warm body was in front of her, arms snug around her and she breathed “I love you” into the nape of her neck. And when she finally did fall asleep, it was with a smile gracing her lips and a heart full of love. And when Tara fell asleep, she too had a small smile on her lips feeling absolutely at peace. The love of her life was pressed against her, holding her and no nightmare could ever touch her through all that love. 


	9. A Winter to Remember

The winter had hit hard that year. The group had been relieved that they had thought ahead because of how brutal the winter got. Alden had gathered his team and they had built the frame before the ground froze, working on it bit by bit. Anyone available with even a little skill joined it to help. Eugene had spared the time to aid in the whole set up. It took a few months, but by the time the first snowflakes flurried down the greenhouse had been completed.

A second team consisting of Yumiko, Magna, Dianne, Rosita and Tara had been working on insulating the chicken coops and the barn. Rosita had been moved from worker to supervisor halfway through the project when her stomach grew and the little life inside her made itself known.

The Kingdom residents were moved before the outside got too cold. They filled up every spare room and office in Barrington House and many Hilltop residents were happy to invite some into their trailer homes. By the time everywhere was filled there weren’t many Kingdom people left and they were happy to camp in the lobby. Alexandria had given Hilltop the blankets, mattresses and cots they could spare, and it was more comfortable on those in the warm and spacious lobby than it was on the ground in crowded pitched tents.

Rosita’s pregnancy had hit her full force. She went through a phase of awful morning sickness, spending her afternoons on her knees leaning over the toilet as Tara held her hair back and rubbed her back. She had her fair share of soaking in the tub in the middle of the night, water as hot as she could get it as Tara sat beside it in case she dozed off. And not long after, Tara joined her instead of sitting beside her. She had a whole new wardrobe, stretchy sweats and oversized shirts to cover her growing belly. She had grumbled about her growing stomach and Tara reminded her every day how beautiful she was regardless. And she never minded her endless complaints—her back pain, her swelling feet. Every night she’d sit there, massaging her back, her feet, until the complaints drifted away. She’d wait until she found a comfortable position and then hold her through the night, pressing kisses to her sweaty temple and whispering _I love you’s._

Maggie had finally sent her letter to Georgie saying she was staying at Hilltop for good. Jesus was more determined than scarred—he had jumped right into planning for justice. Justice for Tammy Rose and for Enid and for the other pike victims and for _Tara_. Tara was doing better, Maggie wasn’t sure she’d ever be one hundred percent but she was _Tara_ again. And she had Rosita and Yumiko and Magna and Dianne all by her side. The five of them were an invincible team. So while Maggie wasn’t needed as leader of Hilltop anymore, with Jesus taking it back begrudgingly and Tara showing some interest again, she knew she was still needed as a friend. As family. 

As for the winter, the heavy snow had hit before Thanksgiving, although nobody was celebrating thankfulness that fall. The biggest blizzard anyone had seen in a long time had hit them, the coldest they’ve seen too. Walkers were frozen outside, as were anyone unlucky enough to be out in it. Maggie had made sure all the residents of Hilltop and Kingdom, or Kingtop as Jerry had nicknamed them, were accounted for when the storm first blew their way.

It was a winter to remember.

……………………………………………………

Rosita woke up with a startling feeling. She wondered why she woke up with the startling sensation. Then she realized that she was hot, sickly hot and burning up.

Then she had the realization that _she_ wasn’t burning up, that the heat was radiating off of the body beside her. She reaches over to flick the bedside light on. She looks at Tara, cheeks flushed red and a sheen of sweat covering her forehead. Rosita brushes sticky strands of hair away from her face, wincing at how hot she was.

“Tara? Tara?” She shakes her but all she gets in return in a whine. “Gotta get your temp down, babe. I’ll be right back.” 

She kisses her forehead and gets up, slipping out of room and moves down the hall. She wanted to wake Maggie, but accidentally waking Hershel would be no good. So she went to the next best thing and stopped at Yumiko and Magna’s room. She taps quietly, hoping they heard it. A moment later she hears shuffling in the room and the door opens.

“Rosita?” Yumiko mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No. Really late I think. Tara’s burning up which woke me up.”

That woke her up fully. “She’s sick?”

“I don’t know, but her she’s really feverish.”

“Do you need me to get Alex?”

Rosita shakes her head. “I want to try to get it down first. If a cool bath doesn’t help then we can get him but there isn’t much he’d be able to give her other than some Motrin and maybe an IV but I have some in our room anyways. I need your help getting her into the bath, she isn’t waking up easily and I don’t want to shake her awake like that anyways, sleeping it off is good for her.”

“Alright. Let me let Magna know, I’ll be right back out.”

Rosita nods and leans against the wall tiredly, hand on her stomach. She fights to keep her eyes open. A minute later Yumiko reappears, this time with Magna on her heels.

“You look exhausted,” Magna says with a yawn.

“Very much so,” Rosita rubs her eyes as they make their way back to her room. Once they reach her room she climbs back on the bed, pressing her hand against Tara’s forehead once again. She cringes. Yumiko’s hand replaces hers in a moment.

“Oh yeah, she’s really burning up. We trying to wake her a bit or carrying her?”

“Probably carry.”

“Alight get the bathroom door, we’ll carry her. You look like you’re ready to fall over, plus you shouldn’t be trying to carry someone anyways this far into your pregnancy.”

Rosita huffs but lets it go. She was thankful they had the master room that had a connected bathroom—made throwing her guts up from her pregnancy and now carrying Tara in for a cold bath much easier. She gets the door while they—mainly Yumiko—bring Tara. Tara’s eyelids flutter but she doesn’t open them or make a single peep. Rosita turns the water on, shuddering at the cold. Once the water started rising Yumiko lowered Tara into the tub and that’s when her eyes snapped open.

“Easy, easy,” Rosita say in a low voice, rubbing Tara’s arm as she shivers.

“C-cold,” Tara says through shattering teeth.

“I know. But you have a fever, honey. It’s this or we go to Alex.”

“Th-this.”

“Thought so,” she kisses her warm forehead, stroking her hair back as she shivers.

She drifts off again at some point, shivering through it all. Rosita had felt guilty and turned the hot on so the water would be only mildly cool and not freezing. Yumiko gave her a look but didn’t stop her. they sat there beside the tub for a long time, letting Tara’s body cool until her fever broke.

Once she was in the clear, Yumiko pulled her up while Rosita wrapped a towel around her. Yumiko and Magna stepped out of the room so Rosita could change Tara into a pair of dry pajamas. Once she was ready, Rosita called them back in and they helped het her back into bed. They stayed a while longer. And when Tara’s fever spiked again, Magna was the one to go get Alex.

……

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tara choked out, moving her arm to cover her mouth when a wet cough leaves her lungs. Rosita rubs her back when she doesn’t stop right away, body convulsing as she feels like she’s coughing up a lung.

“Alex doesn’t even know if it’s contagious. Nobody else is sick. Not all pneumonia is contagious, y’know.”

Tara struggles to catch her breath. “Baby,” she wheezes out, touching Rosita’s belly with her fingers.

“She’ll be okay, Tara. Here,” she grabs the glass of water and holds it to her girlfriends lips. Tara shakes her head. “If you don’t stay hydrated then Alex will put the IV back in.” She makes a disgruntled sound before taking a sip of the cool liquid. “There. Good girl.”

Tara grunts at her but finishes the cup before laying back down. She reaches for Rosita, tugging at her.

“Thought you wanted me to go,” Rosita teases and Tara just scowls at her. Rosita chuckles and lays beside her, wrapping her arms around her. she strokes her hair back, kissing her forehead. Forehead and temple kisses had become the new normal for them, the little touches and hugs. They craved that touch, that love. “Get some rest, babe.”

She breathes an “I love you” against her neck as she drifts off.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

As winter was reaching its end and spring was in the horizon, there was talk about the communities meeting at Oceanside for some hardcore training. Training to face the whisperers if they returned, to face a horde of walkers or any other foe they may encounter. They had to train to defend themselves, and each other. As individuals and a team.

“I say give it a month or two and we’ll be out of this winter,” Maggie says, looking up at the gray sky. She was sitting on the second story balcony of Barrington House with Tara and Rosita, the former wrapped in a blanket despite her protests. _“You had a nasty case of pneumonia just a few weeks ago, we aren’t taking any chances,”_ Rosita had said when Tara had complained. Tara had huffed but didn’t complain again.

“And then to Oceanside we go,” Rosita says, stealing a glance at her girlfriend.

“I’m going.”

Rosita and Maggie both start shaking their heads at her. “Tara, you haven’t even stepped foot outside the wall since…”

“I’m going. I’m not staying here for weeks while you’re all away.”

“I won’t be going, the baby will be born by then,” Rosita tells her.

“Lies, if you weren’t worried about me you’d go with the baby and that’s the truth.” Rosita looks down with a sigh. “See? I told you. I am going.”

“Tara,” Maggie tries again. “You aren’t ready to go beyond the walls.”

“I will be.”

“Maybe ready to step foot outside the walls, but to travel to another community, see everyone including people you haven’t seen since the fair, kill walkers and train to defeat the Whisperers if they come back? That’s a lot, Tara.”

“I’m going,” she repeats again. “If I’m not ready to kill walkers and train then I’ll just watch. I can watch the baby while you train,” that part is directed to Rosita, “but I’m not staying behind, Ro. I won’t.”  
  


“Okay,” Rosita agrees with a sigh. “Okay.”

……

The three of them were still on the balcony when the sun began to set, this time all three were wrapped up in blankets. Tara and Rosita had thermoses of hot chocolate between their gloved hands. Maggie had a thermos of her favorite tea.

As the sun dipped beneath the trees, the door behind them opened and Yumiko and Magna stepped onto the balcony.

“Alex would have a stroke if he saw you out here in this cold, T,” Yumiko chuckles.

“Please, you’d do the same,” Tara responds and there’s quiet laughter of agreeance. The two take the last remaining chair, Yumiko sitting with Magna perched on her lap.

“True, very true.”

“What’s going on out here?” Magna asks, leaning back against her girlfriend.

“Discussing the Oceanside training once this winter is kicked to the curb. A lot of our fighters are going, including all of us.”

“All of us?” She gestures to Tara.

“She won’t be talked out of it,” Maggie says in a disapproving tone.

“Why talk her out of it, it’ll be good for her.”

“Um, I’m right here,” Tara points out.

“Sorry. I think it’ll e good for you to get out of here. Plus it’ll be the safest place anyways.”

Tara nods and Rosita shakes her head at her with a laugh. “Of course you agree with that.”

“Anyways, Connie and Kelly are coming with. Probably Luke, too,” Yumiko says.

“I get Luke,” Rosita says, “but Kelly and Connie?”

Magna leans forward. “She won’t actually outright say it, but she’s hoping that guy she ran off with before the fair will be there. They spent those days together in the woods and she _really_ took a liking to him.”

“Who—wait, _Daryl?”_

_“Daryl?”_ Rosita and Maggie’s heads turn to her.

“Connie took a liking to… _Daryl Dixon?_ Lives in the woods, never bathes, sleeps in a bed with a dog and speaks in grunts Daryl?”

“Wait Daryl has a girl?” Rosita asks, raising her eyebrows at her girlfriend.

“This is news to me,” Tara shrugs.

“Oh yeah, she wouldn’t stop talking about it. She really took a liking to him and that girl they saved. Guess Daryl wanted to leave the kid but Connie talked him into taking her in and bringing her back and he actually listened to her which is a big feat I take it…” She looks at Tara apologetically who just shrugs. “But Connie really hopes to see him and Kelly wants to go because the rest of us are going.”

“I’m _definitely_ going now,” Tara tells Rosita and Maggie. “I gotta see this.”

This time neither woman even thought of arguing with her because they were just as intrigued.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was daytime when she feels the first pang of pain.

She had always thought it’d come in the middle of the night while she was sound asleep, nestled in Tara’s arms. But it was early morning, barely even eight, and she was taking her daily stroll with Tara around the community.

She had felt the contractions since the morning but she had been having Braxton hicks on and off for weeks so she thought nothing on them. But she could feel this was different. And when she felt the trickle of liquid down her legs she knew it was time. she grabbed onto Tara’s arm tightly to halt her.

“Ro?”

“I think my water just broke.”

Tara was completely frozen for a moment and Rosita thought she may have gone into shock, but then she jumped into action. “We gotta get you to Alex.”

“Uh no, we’re going to our room.”

“Changing the plans?” Rosita nods, squeezing onto her arm when she’s hit by a contraction. Tara helps her as she makes her way to their room, taking their time up the steps one by one. She shouts for Maggie as she guides her into their room. Maggie rushes into their room as Rosita’s being lowered onto the bed.

“Is she—”

“Yeah. can you get Alex?”

“I don’t want Alex,” Rosita says breathlessly. “Women have been giving birth since the dawn of time without doctors aid. I don’t want him unless we need him.”

“Rosita,” Maggie says.

“No! Not unless we need him. He’ll do nothing but annoy me, anyways. No Alex,” she whines.

  
“Okay,” Tara agrees, perching at the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to see if Jerry will take Hershel and I’ll be right back,” Maggie promises, squeezing Tara’s shoulder before disappearing.

Tara takes Rosita’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Just think, once this is all over your beautiful little girl will be out here in the world. And you might not think this now, but the past nine months of hell would have been worth it.”

“ _Our_ beautiful little girl. And you may be right, but right now I don’t really care.”

Tara chuckles. “I know you don’t.” She wraps her up in a tight hug. “And yes, _ours_.”

……

Rosita felt like it’d been hours, and it probably was. Maggie had informed her that there was a long period of contractions and labor was a bitch. When she told Rosita that she could be in labor all day and not give birth to the baby until nightfall or even until the next morning, she had stared at her in pure shock. Tara’s face mirrored hers—she wasn’t sure she could even feel her fingers by this point, she thought if this went on a whole day and night her fingers just might fall off.

The day dragged on, her contractions getting worse and worse and Rosita wasn’t sure she had ever felt pain in this magnitude before. She never thought quite how painful it was. _“I should’ve realized how much this would fucking hurt. I’m not sure why I thought shoving a big baby out of my small vagina wouldn’t hurt.”_

When night fell, it got worse and she could feel a shift. “Please tell me she’s coming,” Rosita whispers. She’s pale, feeling like her energy was already drained. She’s drenched in sweat, Maggie dabbing her face with a cool cloth consistently.

“Should I get Alex?”

She shakes her head. “Check.”

Maggie nods, moving around the bed to the other side. She lifts the sheet covering Rosita’s parted legs, examining. Rosita holds a bated breath and Tara runs her fingers through her damp hair. “I see her head.”

Rosita sighs in relief, knowing the light at the end of the tunnel was visible and shining. But she knew how much the actual pushing was going to _hurt_.

She was grateful they were safe inside the walls away from the dead because she was sure that the scream that ripped through her throat was loud enough to wake the dead. Tara gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, telling her how great she was doing, how proud she was of her. Rosita just shook her head and choked out sobs. “I can’t.”

“You can, Ro. You can. I’ve got you.”

“It _hurts_.”

“I know, I know.”

Tara ends up behind her, arms around her shoulders, holding her hand tightly. She presses kisses to the back of her head, whispers in her ears. Her body convulses with the contractions, pushing with all the strength she has left in her body. She cries and sobs and screams.

“Just a few more, she’s coming!” Maggie’s there, ready to aid. The baby’s head is out, and she waits for the rest to follow. She nods to Tara’s who’s soothing her, encouraging her.

Rosita pushes with all her might and the baby slips the rest of the way out, small and writhing in her hands. She opens her little mouth and lets out a wail, showing off her strong little lungs. She cuts the cord, wrapping her in a little blanket.

“She’s out, you did it,” Tara tells Rosita who slumps against her with a shaky breath.

Maggie places the baby in Rosita’s waiting arms and she smiles down at the little thing. The baby stops crying, looking up with curious little eyes, lips forming an O. Tara rubs Rosita’s shoulder.

“She’s beautiful,” Tara whispers.

Rosita breaks the gaze from the baby and meets Tara’s shining eyes. “She is, isn’t she? We got real lucky.”

Tara wraps her arms around her. “Real lucky.”


	10. The Lines We Cross Part One

Spring had come and with it came preparations for Oceanside training. Maggie had been completely unsuccessful in dissuading Tara from coming. She had talked to Jesus and he had tried too, but as predicted she had disregarded him. So Jesus had made it imperative to Maggie that she had to keep an eye on her. He’d watch her himself but somebody had to stay and take care of Alexandria and between he and Maggie, she needed the training more.

They had packed up the wagons, tacking up the horses. Jesus watched and helped where he could. They had gotten in contact with the other communities and everyone was joining. Jerry and Ezekiel from Kingdom—Jerry still referred to the community as Kingtop though—Michonne, Daryl and Aaron were coming from Alexandria, leaving Father Gabriel in charge of their community. Michonne had said they were bringing their kids along. And the Oceansiders would all be there as they were gathering in their community.

_“Please_ be safe,” Jesus says, enunciating the words as Tara mounts her horse, a pretty copper colored mare.

“I will be.”

“You’ve left the walls once since everything went down and it was barely _an hour_. This is a long ride through a lot of territory. So, _be safe.”_

“She will be,” Rosita comments, riding up to them on her grey mare.

“I’m not so fragile and helpless anyway,” Tara says, a hint of annoyance evident in her voice.

“I know you aren’t, but I’ll still worry.”

Tara makes a face at him but doesn’t move when he reaches up to give her hand a goodbye squeeze. She squeezes his hand back with a hint of a smile. “You could come with us? It’s not too late to change your mind, y’know.”

“Maybe _I’m_ not ready to go out beyond the walls yet.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. Well, I’d be fine but that’s a lot at once. Even for me. Plus, Hilltop needs one of us, just in case.”

“You think something will happen?” She frowns, looking down at him.

He’s quick to shake his head, “No, but best not to tempt fate.” He gives her hand one last squeeze. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

“You better.” He walks away, only turning around once he climbs onto the porch. He watches them ride away, carts pulling behind them with a bittersweet smile. He hoped that they would all be okay, here and there.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The ride to Oceanside had been eventless, chatter and breaks and no sign of threats other than a few stray walkers. No Whisperers. Maggie and Rosita had kept watch on Tara but she had seemed fine— _better_ than fine. Tara was in her element.

Before the fair, her job was being a scavenger. When she lived in an apartment for two years with her father, sister and niece her job was sneaking up stairs to shoot at the Walkers—she didn’t know she had to hit the head so she had just wasted valuable bullets—and running outside to bring in more food from the truck. When they were with _the Governor_ , she was front lines and learned how to hunt from the men there and _Alicia_ real quick. Then she met Glenn and her priority was getting him to Maggie. And then she just fell into that group like it was nothing and she was one of their most valuable scavengers. She and Glenn were the go-to looking for food and weapons people while Daryl was the resident hunter. And then they found Alexandria, which seemed too good to be true, but it _wasn’t._ The leader assigned Tara and Glenn and Noah to scavengers and hunters and she was _so_ in her element. Even if got her blasted into a shelving unit by a grenade and ended up in a coma. When she woke up, not even a week later she was back to manning the gate and building guard posts and scavenging out with Glenn.

She was out scavenging when she lost _Denise_ and _Glenn_ and _Abraham_. She almost wanted to quit right then and there when she returned on foot, not sure how she was still breathing—if it wasn’t from that hopeful teen at Oceanside, she never would have made it out of that community alive, let alone all the way back to Alexandria. But she thought of how _Denise_ died trying to brave, how _Glenn_ was the best scavenger she knew and how she quoted him and she knew if he was up above somewhere looking down that he’d be ashamed of her giving up the part that made her _valuable_ and _happy_ and _needed_ in his kind eyes. So for _him,_ she continued. She fought in a war for Glenn and Abraham’s memory, worked alongside Denise’s murderer in her memory because Denise was just _good_. She fought a war and they won.

So stepping outside of the walls at Hilltop, it wasn’t a big feat. She had been ready to from the moment she woke up. Alpha had been clear that if they left her territory alone, that she’d leave them alone. So really, what was _so hard_ about leaving the walls to gallop her horse through the woods and find herself in a place where all the people she loved were gathering?

They had arrived at Oceanside that late afternoon, everyone tired and a little hungry despite packing some food for the trip. They were the closest, so they had arrived before the Alexandrians.

Cyndie had ran over to meet them, chocolate brown eyes wide, full of confusion and relief alike. Tara figured she’d get a lot of looks, Maggie had been hoping to dissuade her for weeks so she doubted she told anyone she was coming with.

Cyndie’s arms are around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug the moment her feet hit the ground from dismounting her horse.

“I had no idea you were coming! I was planning on visiting Hilltop after training to see you, but here you are! How are you?”

Tara gives her one of her genuine smiles. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m here, aren’t I?” She chuckles.

Cyndie gives her a look, then a smile. Tara’s eyes meet Rachel’s over Cyndie’s shoulders. Before Tara can even give a wave the teenager turned and disappeared. Her brow furrows and she looks to Cyndie. “What’s with Rachel?”

Cyndie shrugs. “Who knows? It’s _Rachel_.”

Tara frowned slightly, a feeling it was more than Rachel just being _Rachel_. She can’t dwell on that feeling much longer because Kathy and Beatrice came up to them, as curious of her wellbeing as Cyndie had been. Rosita appeared beside her, hand slipping into hers, ready to pull her away if the crowding and questions became overwhelming. But Tara was thriving in the closeness of bodies and animated chatter. It was the perfect distraction, it was _home_.

It wasn’t long after when she sees the carts rolling in from Alexandria. She sees Michonne riding her horse in the lead, a cart following with Aaron driving. She could make out the top of Judith’s sheriff hat, the top of Gracie’s blonde curls. She hears the hum of a motor bike, signaling Daryl’s arrival with them.

Cyndie moves to greet them, Rosita and Tara following hand in hand. They were Rosita’s people less than a year ago—she had been Alexandrian through and through, raising Judith and RJ when Michonne was doing whatever she did, hunting with Aaron and Daryl, even those six long years where Michonne locked down the walls. But she had left without a second thought the moment she heard what had happened during the fair. She was already at the fair when Daryl had carried Tara’s seemingly lifeless body through the gates and she hadn’t left her side since. She had never even returned to Alexandria to gather her belongings—Eugene had brought them to her.

Michonne gives them a tightlipped smile, but her look changed when she saw Tara. Tara knew she’d be getting a lot of looks. She hadn’t seen these people, her _family_ , since the fair before she was abducted. Michonne had moved turned them, drawing her in for a hug despite not being a touchy person.

“How are you?” Her voice is quiet, stern. Her face is as serious as ever but there’s a rare softness that was always reserved for her children and those she held the closest. Tara wasn’t one who usually got the softness, especially after she left Alexandria with Jesus during those six years.

“I’m good,” she says again. “Not like, a hundred perfect. But about seventy-five, maybe eighty.”

Michonne chuckles slightly at her. “Judith’s been asking to visit. We wanted to wait until we heard back from someone on how you were doing before I brought the kids.”

“If she wasn’t doing better than like sixty percent Maggie would’ve locked her in a cell until we were far enough away to be followed,” Rosita jokes and Tara lets out a laugh knowing how _true_ it was.

“Right? She’s been trying to talk me into staying back home for _weeks_. Even used the Hershel and Coco card.”

Michonne’s entire demeanor changed at the mention of Maggie. Tara and Rosita both notice it, shifting on their feet. Michonne scans the Hilltop caravan and spots Maggie, a little boy who looked so much like Glenn beside her, a baby nestled in her arms. She frowns. “Maggie’s back. And has another baby?”

“No, the baby’s mine.” Rosita says and Michonne gives her a look full of confusion. “I, um…Siddiq’s.” Michonne’s hardened look softens.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. Rosita nods.

“Speaking of people we don’t exactly want to see…” She directs her look to Tara, “Daryl’s here. And he brought Lydia with him.”

It was Tara’s turn for her entire demeanor to change, her hand squeezing Rosita’s tightly.

“How okay are you?” Rosita asks quietly.

“I…don’t know.”

She takes half a step back when Daryl came into view, rugged as always with his dark hair falling in his face. The mutt had had chosen as his companion trotted at his heels, tongue hanging out as his nose sniffed all the strange scents in the air. He probably hadn’t smelt the sea before.

Behind him trailed the girl, the offspring of the demon that haunted her nightmares and her darkest thoughts. The teen dragged her feet across the sandy floor, hesitant steps with hunched shoulders and improper posture parallel to the dead. Years of walking with the dead would be difficult to fix. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders, falling over her face. Her eyes were downcast, face lowered. She looked ready to flinch away if anyone would to grab at her. Tara’s heart hurt for her, this child who had been abused and treated less than an animal. But her pure heart did nothing to stop her from stumbling backwards. Because despite the child being innocent, being as much of a victim as anyone if not more, she couldn’t look at the shell of a girl without images of her mother flashing in front of her eyes.

Daryl’s ocean eyes meet hers and his eyes widen for a moment. Tara knew he wouldn’t have brought his ward with him if he knew she would be there and she silently curses Maggie for spending more time trying to convince to stay behind then giving the others a heads up. 

Daryl goes to speak but Tara just shakes her head and allows Rosita to pull her away.

Maggie gives them a concerned look when they return to the caravan. Tara figured she looked as she felt—pale and teary eyed. “What happened?”

“Daryl brought the Whisperer girl here with him,” Rosita explains, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s Beatrice, right?” Rosita asks the Oceansider with the short brown hair and deep brown eyes.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice deeper than she expected. She takes one look at Rosita’s stern face and Tara's teary eyed look. “Looking for where you’re staying?” Rosita nods quickly and Beatrice ushers them to follow her. Maggie sends Hershel over to Jerry and Nabila before following the others, Coco still secure in her arms. She leads them through the little village before pausing in front of a cabin. Rosita thanks her before leading Tara up inside of it.

_“Breathe.”_ Tara practically collapses onto the bed, Rosita sits beside her and pulling her in close. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” Tara tries desperately to pull away from the panic attack threatening to drown her, clawing at Rosita’s jacket trying to anchor herself. “I’ve got you,” Rosita whispers, kissing her head on repeat. “I got you. you’re okay, babe.”

Tara tried to respond but she choked on a sob she was suppressing. She cried harder than she had in a long time, sobs wracking her body as Rosita held onto her tightly. She grabbed at her throat, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. She just needed to _breathe._ Rosita’s hand found hers, pulling it away from her throat before she could hurt herself. “Tara, it’s okay. Breathe. Come on, breathe with me. In…Tara, _in_.” She came out of whatever was holding her down and drew in a sharp and shaky breathe. “Good girl. Now, out…” Tara breathes out, gasping desperately for air in her screaming lungs. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I—I know,” she says finally, breathing deeply, face buried in the crook of her neck. “I know she’s not bad. She’s on our side. But who her mom is…I just couldn’t control…” 

“I know, I know. It’s okay.”

Maggie moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you going to say that you told me so?” She asks her, wiping her cheeks.

“No. Because I _didn’t._ You were ready, at least until you saw _her_. I’ll talk to Daryl—”

“No,” Tara shakes her head. “We signed that coalition. We all agreed to give that girl asylum. She has as much right to be here as we do. I just…I wish I knew so I could’ve prepared myself. That threw me off guard. I didn’t think I’d have to confront that part anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to be anywhere near her. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, anyways. I don’t see her trying to socialize. How about we just stay in here until dinner? We could all use the rest anyways.”

Tara nods, taking a shuddering breath. “Okay.”

Maggie offers them Coco, and Tara takes her with a smile. “Hey, little one.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey, Rachel.”

Rachel jumps from her spot by the fire, looking up. “Oh. Hi, Tara.” The teen had always been much more vigilant than this which furthered Tara’s thought that something was up. She sits down beside her. She can feel Rosita’s eyes on her from the other side of the fire.

“What’s up?” Rachel shrugs. “Excited for training?”

Rachel eyes her. “Are _you_ training?”

Tara shakes her head. “I’m just going to watch this time. I’m pretty out of practice.” Rachel looks down and Tara reaches out to nudge her. “Hey. What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

_“Rachel,”_ her voice picks up a rare sternness and much like when she was a young child, Rachel rolls her green eyes and huffs.

_“I_ was at the fair. Cyndie was sick and I took over for her and…how was the leader of those _monsters_ able to get in and take you all? How did I miss _that?_ We all just…we let everyone down. _I_ let them down. I let _you_ down.”

“Hey!” Rachel jumps at the sternness of her voice. “None of that! I can’t speak for all the others who…We didn’t know each other, the communities didn’t. Michonne made sure of that. Oceanside, Kingdom, Hilltop, we all knew each other for the most part. But Alpha, she had a wig on. And for all I knew she was an Alexandrian. And she told me she had something important to show me, and I thought nothing of it and followed her. She had someone with her waiting and I was hit in the back of my head. I was lured out of the community, she didn’t go in stealing people. She _lured_ people out and knocked them out when they were secluded. There’s nothing you could have done. _Everyone_ missed it. _I_ missed it and I was the one taken.”

Rachel says nothing, eyes glued to the floor.

“I know you have this need to protect everyone, wanting to be on the frontlines and run head first into the fray. Even as a little girl you were always quick to jump into action. But you can’t always be there for everyone and can’t always save the day and it’s okay. It is _okay_. I promise you, _nobody_ blames you but yourself. It never even once crossed my mind. I tore _myself_ apart, but I never blamed you.”

“What—why blame _yourself?_ You were the one taken.”

“Survivors guilt? Leader guilt? I don’t know, but if I didn’t have Ro…” She shrugs. “I was in a dark place.”

“But you aren’t anymore?”

“I mean, I have trouble sometimes. But I’m almost better. I’m getting there and I will continue to get there, I promise you that.” Rachel gives her a small smile. “I know you aren’t a hugger but…”

Rachel laughs and scoots over, hugging Tara tightly.

Times like this was when Tara realized just how impacted others were from what had happened last autumn. And she knew more now than ever that it was the right choice to come. They all needed mending, and she knew them seeing her better—maybe not entirely _okay_ , but _better_ —would help some of them start to move on truly, start to mend.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

They were set up in their formations. Ezekiel and Jerry were at the door to an old washed up ship where the walkers they gathered were being held. The goal was for them to let them out a few at a time. At the battle formation, the frontlines were the men with the shields. Aaron took point, four others on other sides of men from the four communities. The group behind were the spear throwers, Alden in command with a handful of others. Behind them were in hand combat fighters—Michonne, Daryl, Maggie, Magna, Luke, Rosita and little Judith. In the very back were the archers—and slingshot wielders—which consisted of Yumiko, Dianne, Kelly and Connie. Rachel, one of their archers, was on team retreat and delivery with Cyndie. And Daryl, arguably the best archer, was taking key point in directing and in hand.

Tara had decided to come watch from the side, opting out on the actual training like she planned. She almost joined in when she saw that Daryl had brought Lydia along to watch. She sat on a pile of rocks, Henry’s staff leaning up beside her. Tara kept her distance, as far away on the rocks as she could be from the girl. Her axe was beside her just in case, knives in their sheaths attached to her belt. She kept looking over at Lydia, but the child didn’t look at her ever once. In fact, she didn’t look at anyone. She kept her eyes cast downwards.

“Ready?” Ezekiel shouts. When she glances at the girl again she sees she finally looks up, though her face tells her that Ezekiel’s shout had startled her more than just gotten her attention. _“Archers!”_ He shouts when the first few Walkers are let through the door.

Aaron and the shields knelt down as arrows and rocks flew through the air, piercing every single walker. Yumiko and Dianne gave proud looks at each other, Kelly and Connie wearing matching smiles. Tara smiled herself. Cyndie and Rachel were quick to retrieve the arrows as the second wave of walkers were released. The spears were up, Aaron and the shields once again dropped down as Alden took point and spears were launched. She watched with bated breath as one of the archers, one she didn’t recognize missed and a walker grew uncomfortable close to them. Alden’s face was set when he launched another spear, hitting it dead in the face.

The third wave came. Tara had a weird feeling in her stomach, and she wasn’t entirely certain if it was because Rosita was up with her spiked katana or if it was something else entirely. The shields parted and Michonne walked through, katana raised. Magna followed, spinning her axe in her hand while Maggie and Luke followed out behind with their own axes. Rosita took up the rear, her spiked katana out in full display. She had taken pride in her deadly weapon and Tara felt pity on any living thing that met the jagged blade. They made quick work on their lot, Rosita swinging her katana, muscles in her slender arms rippling. Tara smiled at her girlfriend’s strength, the determined look on her face.

When Rosita was back behind the barrier, her sinking feeling only amplified. She didn’t have to question it long, just mere moments later she heard Ezekiel and Jerrys shouting and moving away as dust blew their way. With a loud crumbling sound, the door unhinged and crashed to the ground, letting nearly two dozen walkers free off their prison. Her hand instinctively grabbed her axe. She looked at Lydia, seeing brown eyes widen in terror. The child grew up moving through hordes but she was never exposed. She never had reason to fear them the way she was fearing them now.

“It’s about to get real, guys!” Michonne shouts above the anxious chatter and the growls of the dead. “Stay in your formations and remember your training!” It was a free for all, the soldiers of the coalition scrambling to assemble their groups. Spears and arrows were flying, all in coordination to each other.

Despite their efforts, they couldn’t control them all. She jumped up when a few strays headed their way. _“Hey, kid!”_ Tara calls to Lydia who had scrambled up on the rocks away from a walker at the foot of it. “Use the staff!” She sees Lydia grab for it but loses her grip on it when the walker grabs ahold of her foot. She expected a scream from the girl, but she was silent. _“Shit!”_

Before Tara could react two walkers were in her space and she moved back, drawing her arm back and burying her axe into one of their heads. She stumbles back when it falls forward, her foot catching a rock and she’s plummeting backwards. The second walker is down, grabbing her leg. “No!” She shoves the dead walker off of her, jerking her leg away from the other’s snapping jaws.

Suddenly the walker is headless, head rolling several feet away and Rosita is standing above it, panting with wide eyes. She drops down and cups Tara’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she breathes out.

She swings her head around, suddenly remember the girl who was in trouble. She sees her shaking, hands gripping the staff so hard her knuckles turn white. But the walker who had grabbed her is on the ground, puncture in its head. The end of her staff is dripping in blood. She sighs in relief, the kid was able to get ahold and defend herself. Daryl went running over, looking worse for wear. He kicks the walker on the ground away and reached a hand out. Lydia took it, letting Daryl guide her down off of the rocks. Daryl was the least huggable person she had ever met, but the moment that girl’s feet hit solid ground he was wrapping his arms around her. He held onto, stroking her hair as he breathed out in relief. That was a side of Daryl she was unfamiliar with.

“Tara!” Maggie is there now, hauling her to her feet with Rosita. She lets Maggie hug her, but she wasn’t terrified or shaken. It felt like a normal day—a close call, but it was _normal._ She was in her element and she wasn’t sure if it was her or the adrenaline but wielding her axe and embedding it in the first walkers head felt _good_. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She nods her head. “I’m good.” She scans the area, seeing that the rest of the walkers were dead, everyone regrouping. Some looking shaken up but most of them looking _proud_. Michonne gave a speech and they were on their walk back to camp.

Daryl had fallen in step beside her when they entered the camp. She looked around, not seeing Lydia. She was surprised the kid let him out of her sight after that scare—she was just as surprised he let her out of his sight. “Sent her with Connie to get cleaned up. She trusts Connie. Only other person she trusts I think.” Tara gives a half smile. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on bringing her and didn’t know you was coming here. She begged me not to leave her there alone, she don’t like Gabriel and the other kids mess with her. I couldn’t abandon her— _she_ used that word. If I knew you’d be here, I’d try to convince her harder, or at least see if you’d be okay with it.”

“Maggie was trying to talk me out of it for weeks, she was hoping I’d stay behind too.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised you came. Nothing keeps ya down…I know it’s hard to see her, but she’s a good kid.”

“I know she is. None of this is on her. I just…need more time before I start being around her.”

“Yeah. I get that. I’ll keep her away from you til you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” She looks around at everyone settling. She sees Rosita peppering kisses over Coco’s face, Maggie talking with Michonne away from everyone else, Magna and Yumiko watching Luke talk—more like _flirt_ —to an Oceanside girl. _Jules_ she believes. “They did good today. _Really_ good.”

“You having a proud leader moment?”

“Mm. I _am._ Look how far they’ve come. They kept their cool, kept formation. Next time we run into real trouble, our militia will be stronger than ever.”

“Let’s hope that trouble don’t come here anytime soon.”

“Let’s hope.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Everyone was hanging around the camp and enjoying the late afternoon breeze. Jerry had taken Ezra, Aliyah, Judith, RJ, Gracie and Hershel down to the beach to collect seashells. Magna and Yumiko are sitting on legs, legs intertwined and holding hands. Nabila was bouncing Mariam on her hip as people surrounded her, ogling at the baby. Baby Adam was being passed around, smiles and giggles coming from him. Coco was secure in Tara’s arms, being the only baby who wasn’t center of attention due to nobody wanting to crowd her and she was grateful. Her eyes found Rosita who’s talking with Daryl, and then to Maggie who’s mid conversation with Dianne and Laura.

She leaned back, settling in with a sleeping Coco when the kids arrived back. They were laughing, vibrant smiles on their faces. She smiled at Hershel being attached to Ezra, holding Aliyah’s hand so she wouldn’t be left out. They sat down in a circle, dumping out their buckets to examine their findings.

Her brow furrowed when Judith pulls something from RJ’s pile and she feels her stomach churn when she sees what it was. _“Mom!”_ Judith yells. In her hand was a whisperer mask.

Tara is up, accidentally jostling Coco who starts to whimper. Michonne and Maggie moved at lightning speed to their children and Judith is quick to show her mother her mask. Tara edges over to them and Rosita appears by her side. She takes Coco from her wordlessly and Tara edges over to them. Michonne looks up at them. “We need to radio back home.”

Michonne, Daryl, Aaron, Laura, Ezekiel, Cyndie, Rachel, Tara, Rosita and Maggie were in around the radio where Aaron was seated. “The kids found it down by the estuary, the river must’ve washed it in. My suggestion is to put Alexandria on lockdown, just in case.”

“That seems extreme,” Maggie whispers to Rosita who nods. Tara doesn’t move or speak.

Michonne stepped in, pressing the button down to speak. “No. I appreciate your concern, I do,” she says to Aaron who sits back with a sigh, “but there’s no need to start a panic. Alexandria should stay on alert but don’t give anyone a reason to panic unless we have one.”

“The sea washes up stuff all the time,” Cyndie offers to try to give some relief. Rachel nods along with her words.

When Gabriel agrees with Michonne and they hung up, Maggie radioed Jesus to let him know to be vigilant. And Michonne decided to round up three groups of two to go scout the area. She and Aaron, Alden and Luke, Dianne and Laura.

The rest would go back to their normal preparations. Rachel and Beatrice had asked Tara and Rosita to aid her in bringing in the big fishing net. Yumiko, Magna and Kelly were also rounded up. They trekked back to the sea, small chatter among them. Despite not being on net duty, Connie tagged along.

“This is heavy,” Rosita grunts when they grab the net, pulling it back.

_“Very_. What the hell is in this thing?”

“Probably perch,” Rachel laughs. “Lots and lots of perch.”

Tara grimaces, remember the taste of salted perch. The raw fish Cyndie had given her, the only taste she had in her mouth on the long walk from Oceanside to Alexandria that time. Rachel and Beatrice laugh at the face she makes, knowing very well why.

“Okay, on three we heave,” Beatrice says and the others nod along.

“One, two,” Rachel says.

_“Three!”_ Beatrice shouts.

They pulled the net, feet digging into the sand as they pulled back. “Oh shit, it’s like quicksand,” Tara says with a laugh.

“Tell me about it,” Magna comments. She looks to Rachel and Beatrice, “How do you guys do this regularly?”

“We’re used to it,” Beatrice shrugs.

“Been doing it since I was like nine,” Rachel adds. “It’s as normal to us as hunting for deer and rabbit in the woods is for you guys.”

They keep pulling at it, getting it mostly out of the water. “Watch out, Kelly,” Rachel’s voice sounds. Tara looks at the girl to her left. She glances behind them, seeing a patch of coral not far behind them. “Kel!”

Tara drops her handle on the net and grabs Kelly’s arm. Kelly jumped and looks at her startled as if she didn’t hear. Tara was wondering if she _was_ losing her hearing. “Hey.”

Kelly gives her a look, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you alright?”

Kelly nods but she didn’t look okay. But Tara knew better but to push. She let her go and got back to the net when she saw Connie approaching. She eyes them, but she knows limited signing, and they sign too quick for her to pick up on. She can tell Kelly is distraught, and she’s almost certain her suspicion was correct—Kelly _was_ losing her hearing like her sister. She saw Connie raise her arms like a superhero and she could figure that one one— _superpower_. Connie never let it slow her down, and Tara would believe her if she told her that her deafness was a superpower. It wasn’t a disability to her and didn’t hold her back or affect who she was.

She turned her focus back on the net and they finally got it all the way up to shore. She ended up on fish Rachel, Beatrice, Rosita and Yumiko once they got the net well up the shore. They sat, taking fish out and inserting knives into their brains and dumping them into the buckets.

Kelly and Connie were still talking when a bark sounded, Daryl’s dog running over and jumping up on Connie. Her face broke out in a radiant smile and she pet the dog. Kelly laughed and dropped down to stroke the pet. Connie raised a hand and waved to Daryl who waved back before continuing for the docks.

_“You have a new friend,”_ Magna says, signing before running her fingers through the dogs coarse fur.

_“He’s the best,”_ Connie signs with a smile.

_“The man or the dog?”_

Connie blushed, looking down at the dog. Magna laughs, stroking the dog with her.

_“I should return him,”_ Connie signs. _“Don’t want him lost.”_

_“Don’t think he’s lost. But I’ll go with you.”_

Connie gives her a questioning look but Magna just shrugs innocently. Connie rolls her eyes playfully, getting up. She pats her thigh and the dog follows excitedly, Magna training after them. They made their way to the docks, seeing Daryl leaning against the edge, Ezekiel not far from him.

Dog barked and raced to his owner. Connie smiles when Daryl kneels down, petting the dog with a content look gracing his lips. She walks over, Magna smirking at her. she pulls out her notebook and scribbles down a note. _“I think you lost something.”_

Daryl reads and to Magna’s surprise, he awkwardly signs, _“no, he just likes you better,”_ speaking each word as he slowly signs it.

Magna smiles at that. Connie writes another note, _“not bad—you sign with a Southern accent.”_

Magna deems them safe and she turns walking away before breaking out into a run. She runs all the way back to the others. She skids to a stop, stumbling and almost face planting into Tara.

“Woah, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Come,” she grabs her hand, pulling her. Out of all her people she knew, Tara was the one most investing in knowing what would happen between Connie and Daryl. It had even been the defining moment for her coming to Oceanside.

“Why?” She lets Magna pull her up regardless of the question.

“ _Daryl_ is using _sign language_ to talk to Connie,” she says breathlessly, excitedly. Rosita and Yumiko looked up at that.

“Wait—really? Right now?”

“Right now.”

“I gotta see this. I’ll be back,” she tells the other before running off after Magna. They run as well as they can in the deep sand. When they neared the docks, they slowed down.

“If they question you being here, it’s cause you wanted to see Carol.”

Tara paused. _“Carol?”_ Guilt hit her full force.

“Yeah…Daryl’s at the docks waiting for her return. You didn’t know?”

“N-no.”

“We can go back.”

“No.” She walks forward and Magna follows.

They climb up onto the dock and Daryl looks at her with a questioning look and she just shrugs. She doesn’t miss the look Connie gives Magna. Magna pulls Tara down, halfway between Daryl and Ezekiel and motions to Connie who rolls her eyes. Connie writes another note, one that makes her lips turn up in a smile. Magna catches a glance when she turns the notepad to Daryl. _“If you ever need a dog sitter.”_

Daryl chuckles lowly and manages to sign, _“Yeah, he’d like that,”_ speaking as he signed. Tara looks at Magna wide eyed.

They didn’t have much more time to ogle over them because a horn sounds and a boat approaches. Tara swallows hard. She had already seen the families of the pike victims, all besides Carol. Carol who’s taken it the hardest—she had lost _another_ child and it had almost destroyed her. It destroyed her marriage and she had run away, working endless nights in the boat in the sea, fishing for more than just perch for them to live off of. She wondered briefly how’d she react to Lydia’s presence here.

Carol hopped off the boat as soon as it docked, barely giving Ezekiel the time of day. She ran over to Daryl, hugging him tightly. “Did you miss me?”

“Nah.”

“I’ll take it.”

Her smile faded when she saw Tara. She slowed passing her, pale blue eyes giving her an icy look that chilled her to her bones. It wasn’t an accusation, like she blamed her. But her face said she didn’t want Tara there, like her very _existence_ was a burden. Like she wanted to forget everything that happened and that she wished Tara would just disappear, to walk to the edge of the dock and get swallowed up by the sea. It hurt more than an accusation.

Magna serves Carol with a cold look, “don’t be a bitch.”

_“Magna,”_ Tara hisses.

Carol swung around, eyebrows raising. _“Excuse me?”_

“Don’t. Be. A. _Bitch_.” Magna says slowly as if talking to a small child. “I saw that look you gave her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Connie moves over, putting a hand on Magna’s arm, giving her a warning look. Daryl pulled Carol away before she can make any more of a scene. He gives them an apologetic look. Dog whines, pushing his snout against Connie’s hand. Tara kneels down, petting her as she tries to breathe her anxiety away.

“Let’s get you back to your girl,” Magna says and Tara gets up with a nod.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

_“Let’s hope that trouble don’t come here anytime soon.”_

They had hoped, and they had been strongly disappointed. The boom in the sky made Tara and Rosita nearly fall over. They looked up at the light shining through the sky, using her hand as a visor.

“Is that a meteor shower?” Judith asks from behind Michonne.

Before Michonne can respond, Rachel came running, green eyes wide. “Michonne! Eugene’s on the radio, he needs to talk to you, _now!_ ”

Rosita and Tara looked at each other before jumping up and running after the samurai. They reached the room with the radio, standing beside Rachel and Cyndie. It wasn’t good news—it was a satellite, falling rapidly towards Oceanside. Eugene said he was sure it’d miss them, but he said landing even if Alpha’s territory could be detrimental to them regardless.

They were vigilant out there, waiting for the light in the sky grew closer and closer. Then sun had gone down by the time it made contact, and the earth shook when it hit, not too far over the border. Fear flashed through them as the world lit up, fire spreading rapidly through the woods.

_“Shit.”_

They were moving, all of them through the camp. They had tin backpacks with hoses, filling them with water. Buckets and wheelbarrows of water were grabbed. Shovels to dig trenches, to throw sand were grabbed.

Tara was frozen. _They couldn’t cross the border_.

_“Tell them that their land is my land. Tell them there will be consequences if they cross into my land. Tell them to listen or die.”_ Alpha’s voice filled her ears and she chokes on a sob, remembering the words she had whispered in her ears. The words whispered as she watched in horror as scarlet spread of the barn floor, the bodies and heads scattered in front of her. The words she heard before the world went black.

“We can’t do this!” Magna says adamantly, tying her hair up in a messy bun regardless.

“We have _no_ choice!” Rosita says, concerned written on her features.

“If we get caught on their side of the border, that’s it! That’s _war!”_ Magna argues and Tara wants to agree with her but she can’t move, can’t speak.

Dianne joined in, looking straight at Magna. “It’s a _fire_. Fires spread. It could take out our hunting grounds.”

“Or Oceanside!” Cyndie says, running by.

“Are we really doing this?” Aaron asks.

“We gotta go now,” says Carol, who appeared out of the blue.

Tara watched as they moved for the boarder.

_“Tell them that their land is my land. Tell them there will be consequences if they cross into my land. Tell them to listen or die.”_

Tara swallows hard. “Tara? Tara!” Rosita calls, looking at her with wide eyes.

Tara could stay behind with the kids, stay on the safe side while those she loved risked their lives to put out a raging fire on enemy grounds. Or she could take that step, that last leap, and choose to defy the monster that flooded her dreams.

Rosita looks at her, waiting for her answer. To stay or to go.

And she made her choice.


	11. The Lines We Cross Part Two

_Tara could stay behind with the kids, stay on the safe side while those she loved risked their lives to put out a raging fire on enemy grounds. Or she could take that step, that last leap, and choose to defy the monster that flooded her dreams._

_Rosita looks at her, waiting for her answer. To stay or to go._

_And she made her choice._

It was time to be brave. Time to stop letting that axe swing over her head with no idea when it’d fall. Time to take her life back. If Lydia could cross into her mother’s border, glued to Daryl’s side of course, then Tara knew she could cross over too. They were going regardless—there was no way to stop a war if it came to that. It wasn’t a choice to cross or not cross. It was a _personal_ choice—to stay behind, to let the fear take ahold of her with its ugly claws and pull her into the abyss or to take back her life, to take that final leap forward and shed that fear and to try to get ahold of the person she once was.

She grabbed Rosita’s hand and they ran towards the fire. The smoke hitting her lungs made her stumble, squinting against the blinding fire against the black night.

“Start on the outside! Push in!” Cyndie shouts.

Rosita grabs a shovel, passing one to Tara. The two of them align with Magna and Yumiko, Luke and Jules as they dig into the ground and dig a trench at rapid pace. Tara’s head is spinning, she’s dizzy and nauseous and it’s not from the smoke seeping into her lungs. Rosita has to grab her arm to slow her down before she threw out her back, or arm. Or stressed herself into collapsing. “Breathe slower,” Rosita hisses to her. “You’re breathing in too much smoke.”

“Magna, you’re spinning out. What’s wrong?” Yumiko’s voice sounds beside them, her concern mirroring Rosita’s. _What isn’t wrong?_ Tara thinks bitterly.

Magna pauses her machine-like work, scoffing with a cough. “What’s _wrong?_ What _isn’t_ wrong?” She shakes her head, going back to digging. “We’ve likely just started a _war_. There’s a huge fire spreading through the forest heading for Oceanside and the hunting grounds. And who knows how many dead heard the boom and are coming our way!”

Tara stumbles a little, hearing it out loud hitting her like a truck. Rosita grabs her shoulder, “breathe, Tara, breathe.”

“And look!” She points to the group spraying water from the hoses, throwing buckets full of water at the fire. “They’re _barely_ making a dent. And we aren’t digging nearly fast enough. So stop asking me what’s wrong and help me dig this trench!”

Yumiko doesn’t respond but puts her focus back on the trench digging. Tara and Rosita redirect their focus. There’s another dozen people spread out digging in a half circle around the area, nearly two dozen on water duty.

Daryl comes running over to them, Lydia in tow. The teen keeps trying to dig her heels in but Daryl’s stronger than she is and yanks her forward every time she halts. “I know you said you don’t want her around…”

“No, she’s fine,” Tara says quickly. Having the teen around was the least of her worries and it was an extra person helping dig.

“Stay with them,” he says gruffly, pushing the kid forward. Yumiko grabs a shovel, handing it to her.

“But—”

_“Stay!”_ He shouts, maybe too aggressively but he had to get back to hosing down the flames and he needed Lydia away from the flames. If she was insistent on not going back to the village and wanted to help, the trenches was her safest bet. And there was nobody by the trenches he trusted more to keep her in one piece than Tara and Rosita. He sighs when he sees her flinch back and he reaches a hand out to grasp her shoulder. “Hey. I need ya safe and this is safe. I’ll be back, but you gotta stick with these guys. Alright?”

Lydia nods, swallowing hard and it makes his heart twinge. She looks at him, brown eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip quivering a bit. He gives her shoulder a squeeze before turning on his heel and running back the way he came. He disappears from sight quickly, the thick smoke concealing him.

“Kid, come on. We got a lot of work to do,” Yumiko says to her and she wipes her cheek and nods.

The five of them get back to digging, knowing it would be the longest night they’ve had in a very long time.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

By the time the sun had begun to rise they had made a reasonable dent in the fire. The trench was nearly complete, and it had stopped the fire that reached its edges. The water tins had run out and the ones wearing them had to return to Oceanside to refill.

Yumiko was about to redirect her group to grabbing some buckets when Lydia broke into a coughing fit, her knees hitting the ground. The girl was covered in dirt and ash, coughing uncontrollably. She had too much smoke inhalation.

“Shit. Take it easy, kid.”

“No, no, no,” Rosita says when Tara collapsed against her, coughing nearly as bad as Lydia. Magna kept upright, fighting against her coughs. “Shit, Miko!”

“Try not to talk,” Yumiko says quickly. “Don’t inhale too much, the smoke is too thick.”

Rosita shakes her head before calling out, “Daryl!”

“Rosita,” Yumiko hisses. “We have to get them—”

She was cut off by guttural growling and through the smoke and flames emerged dozens of walkers. Walkers emerging from the flames were turning black, flames licking their bodies and making them even more deadly. “Shit!”

She hears the others with the water shouting, she hears weapons being drawn. Tara forces herself upright, unhooking her axe.

“You shouldn’t,” Rosita warns and Tara shakes her head with a deep cough.

“Got no choice.”

Yumiko pulls Lydia to her feet, helping her pull the staff over her head. “I know you don’t feel great, Kid, but we’ve got company.” Lydia nods, using the staff to keep her upright.

Rosita pulled out her spiked katana, Magna her axe and Yumiko drawing back her bow. Yumiko let an arrow fly, hitting one of the several approaching walkers. “Guys, they’re coming!”

Rosita moved forward towards them, Magna at her heel. “You two stay back, take out the ones that get past us. Tara, I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Tara says breathlessly.

“Lydia. Understood?” The teen nods with wide eyes and Rosita accepted it, running towards the fire walkers, katana swinging.

Rosita and Magna found themselves in the fray near Cyndie, Maggie and Daryl. Yumiko joined Rachel and Dianne who had their bows out.

“Where’s Tara?!” Maggie asks Rosita, seeing everyone in their group but her.

“She’s by the trenches! She’s taking out any that get past us. Smoke inhalation, she could barely stand.”

“And you left her alone?”

“She’s not alone, she’ll be fine. We just got to make sure none get past us and get to her!”

“And any that come from other directions?”

“Maggie, I’m worried enough! I can’t be two places at once and the horde is coming this way!” She shouts, slicing her weapon through two walkers heads simultaneously.

“Wait, where’s Lydia?” Daryl shouts, noticing the child’s absence.

“With Tara, she wasn’t doing too great either…Daryl! Dealing with this horde is our priority. We have to trust that Tara and Lydia will be okay!”

Daryl swears in anger but stands his ground, swinging his axe around. There’s a shout and Aaron and Alden came running their direction, Alden cursing. “A group just came through the flames, they’re walking fire balls. Can’t get anywhere near them, too damn hot and too much risk to getting burnt.”

He waves to Yumiko, Rachel and Dianne. “We need you guys over here, we’ll take care of the ones you’re shooting. Fucking walkers on fire!”

Yumiko nodded, gesturing Rachel and Dianne and they switched, the three taking fire while Aaron and Alden, Cyndie, Maggie and Rosita moved to the ones not in flames, weapons ready. Rosita slashed with her katana, Magna, Cyndie and Maggie wielded their axes. Aaron and Alden were ready too, axe in hand and Aaron’s detachable hand molded with a dagger.

Daryl stayed between them, unsure what to do. He wanted to run towards the trenches, to make sure his kid was alright. He was too focused to worry as much as he could, but the thoughts of her dead, lifeless body lying on the ground as walkers ripped mouthfuls of her flesh off of her bones was still seeping into his brain.

“Shit, watch out for the tree! It’s going to fall!” Rachel screams.

Daryl’s eyes seek the tree. It’s a thin tree, blackened and flames licking up the sides with a popping sound. Daryl shouts at the archers to move and he rocks back, holding his axe over his head before throwing it with all his strength with a strained grunt. The axe soared through the air, embedding into the tree dead center. It groaned before an ear splinting creak sounded, the tree falling and landing on the ground of walkers, embers flying in every direction.

They worked for what felt like an eternity, taking out the last of the horde and putting out the fire. But they got it done.

Daryl is leaning forward, hands on his knees as he breathes heavily. His lungs ache from the amount of smoke he had inhaled—he knew the smoke inhalation had been severe in many of them.

He hears Eugene, who had ridden to Oceanside when the satellite had come through the atmosphere, say he wanted to strip the satellite. He was arguing with Michonne before she called for Yumiko, Magna and Luke to aid him in stripping it.

His eyes meet Rosita’s and they have the same thought: Tara and Lydia. They move quickly back towards the trenches, terrified of what they might find.

“Please be okay,” Rosita chanted like a mantra. “Please be okay.”

They arrive to the trenches, Rosita slowing. She frowns and Daryl grabs her arm. “Where were they?”

“Right here.”

“Ya sure? It was dark.”

“I left them right here…” her voice trails off as she sees Tara’s axe on the ground, coated red. “No…Tara? Tara!”

Her eyes drift and she sees dead walkers on the ground and she slowly walks over to them. Daryl follows. She pushes one over.

"Puncture hole.”

“Puncture hole?”

Rosita nods. “Like Lydia’s staff.” She looks around. “Tara!”

“Shh!” Daryl shushes her.

“Don’t shush me—”

“No, listen.”

Rosita frowns but strains to hear what he heard, shaking her head. She goes to speak but then she hears it. A weak cough. She’s running again in that direction, panting heavily.

She finds them against a pile of large rocks, a small safe haven with all direction but the front blocked off from walkers or any other predator.

“Tara!” She runs over to her girlfriend and drops down beside her.

She’s unconscious but breathing, every breath coming out in a strained wheeze. Lydia’s jacket is bunched up beneath her head like a pillow.

The younger girl is sitting beside her, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocks back in forth. Her breath is nearly as wheezy as Tara’s. She sees the blood coated staff beside her on the ground.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl crouches down beside Lydia, cupping her sooty face. “You alright?”

The teen doesn’t speak but nods once. He gives her a look over, determining she’s more in shock than anything. When he’s satisfied she wasn’t bitten, he looks over to the couple beside them. Tara is sitting up, grimacing when a hard cough wracks her body. Rosita helps ease her up.

“Are you okay?!” Rosita asks, eyes wide and wild.

“I…I think so?” Tara mumbles hoarsely. Rosita offers her canteen and Tara takes it, drinking quickly.

“What happened?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. They came and there was so many. I was fighting and…and I just got so dizzy. You were right when you said I should…I should save my breath. And then, I…I don’t remember anything after that.”

Both women look at Lydia who shrinks down under their gaze.

“Maybe ask questions later,” Daryl suggests, though his tone makes it more than a suggestion. Both women nod. Daryl lifts his own canteen to Lydia’s lips and that seemed to snap her out of her shock. She looks at him before taking the water thirstily.

“Can you walk?” Rosita asks Tara and she nods. Rosita helps her to her feet. Once she was finished drinking, Daryl did the same with Lydia. “Let’s get back to the village.”

“Good idea,” Tara says breathlessly, giving Lydia a confused look.

She was putting together that the kid had not only managed to take out all the walkers all on her own—how she had no idea as she remembered the fear and shock she had been in just from killing one at the beach the day before—but that she had managed to keep both from being bitten and got them both to safety. Tara saw the walkers not far from their alcove, figuring the girl must’ve been dragging her and killing them as they appeared back to back. She wondered how that kid was still standing.

“Gon check on the others,” Daryl tells them. “Why don’t ya go with them?”

Lydia shook her head firmly. “No.”

He sighs but doesn’t push it. He keeps an arm loosely around her shoulders in case her knees finally gave out on her or the adrenaline wore off and they headed back towards the others while Rosita guided Tara back to Oceanside.

Carol had stepped out of the shadows before Daryl and Lydia reached the others. She beckoned them into the shadows, whispering her concerns.

“Did someone help her?” Rosita voices her thoughts aloud.

“I don’t think so,” Tara mumbles, nursing her water on the bed. “She’s just one tough kid.”

“I guess with a mother like hers that she’s gotta be.”

Tara hums her agreeance. Rosita sits down beside her, stroking back her freshly cleaned hair. “I never should have left you two alone.”

“If you hadn’t then maybe more would have gotten through or our friends would have died. We all made it out alive, Ro. Lydia and I are okay, our friends and family are okay. The fire is out, everyone here was safe and Eugene got his stupid satellite. Take the win, babe.”

Rosita sighs and brings Tara’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

There was a knock on the door and when Rosita called out “come in” the door opened and Michonne walked in.

“Is something wrong?” Rosita asks.

“Have you seen Daryl and Carol?” Michonne asks.

“Uh, no. Not since earlier. Daryl and Lydia went to find you after the fire was out.”

“They never did,” Michonne says.

“You said Carol’s missing, too?” Rosita asks. “You don’t think…she wouldn’t go looking for her, would she? To see if she was behind the horde?”

“Daryl wouldn’t, not with Lydia with him,” Tara shakes her head, not wanting to talk about her, not after crossing her borders. Not with everyone in their fragile states.

“I hope you’re right,” Michonne says tensely.

Meanwhile, up on the ledge of the very cliff Daryl had stood upon the very morning they found the pikes, Daryl, Carol and Lydia stood. They looked down into the cavern that Daryl had seen full of hundreds of walkers. And it was bare, not a single walker down there. Not a single one. He shares a look with Carol, her suspicion confirmed.

“Are they back?” Lydia asks, her voice small.

“I don’t know,” Daryl’s answers honestly. “Couldda heard the satellite crashing and came by themselves. Couldda be led out. We don’t know. Best get you back over the border just in case, if they’re back we don’t want any of them seeing you, ‘specially on this side.” He guides Lydia away from the ledge, “Carol, let’s go.”

Carol went to follow but a movement down below made her pause. She loves to the edge, squinting down. Then she saw the figure emerge from the trees, standing on a ledge lower down across from her. It was her.

Alpha looked at up her, tilting her head. Carol stared down icy blue eyes meeting icy blue. Alpha’s lips turned upwards into a cruel, cold smile and as anger rippled through her hotter than the fire that spread through the forest, the only thing Carol could do was scream.


	12. No Matter the Cost

Alexandria had been faced with assault after assault. Walkers in groups by the dozen were coming in waves. At first it was questionable, but soon there was a pattern. Every two hours a wave came from the North, every three hours came a wave from the South.

It was hour four when Laura, Gage and Margo were out clearing what they thought were strays when they noticed a pattern and returned quickly for home.

It as hour eleven when Aaron found the wave patterns even more questionable, although he couldn’t tell if he was truly convinced it was deliberate attacks or if his lack of sleep made him paranoid.

At hour thirteen they stopped sending out troops and tried to fight through the fence. It was getting overwhelming for everyone involved. After the buildup was dealt with, Michonne finally picked up Eugene’s masterpiece of a long range radio and called to Hilltop, the closest community. Maggie answers, and she assures they’ll arrive with aid the next morning.

Michonne is waiting at the gate that morning, they had just shortly finished taking care of a new buildup. They’re loading the walker bodies onto carts to burn when a whinny is heard. Horses are seen as the Hilltop cart comes into view. She sees Cal and Marco in the front steering the cart. She spies Maggie, Tara and Rosita sitting in the back. She was surprised to see Tara and Rosita, especially after what had happened at Oceanside. She was sure that after Tara’s first time leaving Hilltop since the pikes had ended up with her crossing enemy lines into the middle of a horrendous fire would stop her from wanting to venture out anytime soon.

She can’t help but have a rare smile when she sees the baby nestled in Rosita’s arms and little Hershel jumping out, hand in hand with Tara over Maggie.

“Hi!” Hershel yells, waving.

“Hi, Hershel.” She smiles at him before turning to Maggie and lowers her voice, “I’m surprised to see you three and not others,” she admits.

Maggie gives a tight smile. “With us crossing over border at Oceanside, we decided to leave Yumiko, Magna and Dianne to aid Jesus in case of retaliation. Especially if this here is an attack from _them_.”

Michonne nods with a sigh. “Probably best. We’re grateful any of you came at all.”

“Rosita and I are in fighting shape. I don’t know about Tara—she might just stay with Hershel and Coco. Probably could keep an eye on Jude and RJ for you, too. And Cal and Marco are here for whatever you need them to do, too. They’re great fighters and Marco is pretty good at taking point.”

“Which is a lot of help, I appreciate you coming.” She raises her voice for the other four to hear, “I appreciate all of y’all coming here to help.”

Rosita smiles at her. “Of course. We may live in Hilltop now, but Alexandria still means the world to us.”

Maggie ended up with Daryl and Carol looking over plans on what they could do and Rosita jumped on board with the defense team for the waves. Much like Maggie had said, Tara ended up bringing Hershel and Coco and even Gracie to Michonne’s where RJ and Judith waited. She promised to help them fight at some point, that she wanted to be useful. Michonne assured her that watching the children was more help than adding another body to the gate. With knowing their children were safe, Maggie, Rosita, Aaron and herself could focus on their tasks without worries giving them four competent fighters. She saw her face fall slightly and assured her that if anyone needed a break, they’d happily take over childcare so Tara could get out there with her axe. But she figured the anxious children would be tiresome enough for her.

Hour thirty-seven came ahead, and Rosita and Maggie took over for tired Alexandrian soldiers who had been at it for over thirty hours. They were fresh fighters and the previous shift needed a break. A few hours later, Gabriel switched places with Tara just to get a breather. “I need a few hours rest, nothing more,” he had told her.

Tara had fought beside Maggie and Rosita, taking out the Northern wave and an hour later the Southern. After the first waves, the three were exhausted already and felt for the Alexandrians who had been dealing with it for two days and a night with little rest. They knew it was a long road ahead and the waves would just get worse.

True to his word, Gabriel had sent for Tara a few hours later. He admitted that staying even longer had been very tempting, but Coco just wouldn’t stop screaming and Hershel kept crying asking for Mama or Aunt Tara. So Tara went back to the kids, holding her relief in. The kids could be tiresome, but not nearly as bad as killing walker after walker. After the onslaught of walkers at Oceanside, she wasn’t sure how any of them would fully be okay emotionally with what they were doing.

When the sun came up, Maggie and Rosita were sitting side by side trying to catch their breaths when they had a break in between waves. Eugene was sitting on the platform above them and he reaches down, offering Rosita his canteen. She takes it gratefully, giving him a tight smile. 

“How long until the next wave?” Michonne asks when she finds them resting.

“One hour ‘til the North, two ‘til the South,” Eugene answers breathlessly. He offers his clean rag down to Rosita so she can clean up best she can instead of wiping his own face.

Michonne nods. “I’m checking on my kids. I’ll check on yours, too.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before walking away, heading to her house. She goes inside and finds it silent. Brow furrowed, she goes up the stairs and peeks into Judith’s room and then RJ’s, finding both empty. When she peeks into her own room she finds them all there. RJ and Hershel were napping in the bed, both sprawled out. Gracie was sitting cross legged on the floor coloring, nibbling on a muffin. Tara was sitting in the rocking chair, a sleeping Coco in her arms as Judith was perched beside the window, peering out.

Judith looks over when Michonne walked in. “Have you slept?” Judith was often up early, but the purple under her eyes told her she had been up all night long.

“It’s not safe to sleep unless it’s safe,” she says in a sleepy voice.

“It isn’t,” Michonne agrees with a sigh. She looks at RJ who’s still peacefully sleeping beside Hershel, at Gracie who looks like she just woke up from a good night’s sleep.

“So? Is it safe?” Judith asks hopefully.

Michonne gives a small shake of her head, but before she could speak her walkie goes off and Maggie is calling her to the front gate. She shrugs at Tara’s questioning look and leaves the house quickly, nearing a jog on the way to the fence. Her step falters when she sees a figure nearing the gate. A single woman wearing a skin. Daryl who was nearby shows up beside her, a scowl set deep on his face.

“Go to the Northern border,” is the woman’s instruction.

“Call off your walkers,” Maggie says in a harsh voice, annoyance and tiredness coming through.

“Not ours,” the woman says, her own voice dripping annoyance. Like she didn’t want to be standing here.

“Yeah, right,” Michonne scoffs.

“Not _ours,_ ” she says again, firmly. Then, “go to the border and wait.”

“For what?” Daryl snaps, shifting his weight restlessly. He hated this. He _really_ hates this.

“For _her,_ ” the woman says before backing away, eyeing them until she’s out of sight.

“We need to call a meeting,” Michonne says earnestly. Daryl and Maggie nod in agreeance.

An hour later, everyone of importance and then some were crammed into the meeting room. There was a lot of chatter, nervousness and anger rolling off of everyone in waves. Michonne stood in the front, Maggie to her side. Rosita and Tara were leaning against the wall behind her. Daryl had chosen to stand behind Lydia’s chair, hands resting on the teen’s shoulder instead of standing front and center beside Michonne per usual. Carol was sitting not far from him.

“Everyone, settle down!” Maggie yells, seeing Michonne’s frustration at her inability to quiet the unruly crowd. She sees some people jump but most stopped their chatter and turned their attention to the front. Maggie nods to Michonne, knowing their attention wouldn’t be held for long. Many of them looked ready to grab pitchforks and tie up nooses with the disregard of consequences of what would happen if they declared war.

“Is this your mother? These walkers?” Michonne asks, directing the question to Lydia.

The girls shrinks under dozens of stares and glares and Daryl shoots looks at people, daring them to say anything to the child. Lydia swallows and shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is.”

“Why would she want to talk?” Daryl asks, his question much gentler than Michonne’s. His hands squeezes her shoulders, trying to encourage her to relax even just a little.

“We crossed into her land, again. We have to answer to that,” she says, her voice harsh. It wasn’t directed to him, it was aimed towards those quick to accuse and assume.

“We don’t _have_ to do anything,” Aaron says harshly, his anger directed to his hatred for Alpha and not to Lydia, that much she knew. “We could just _not_ go.”

“Bad idea,” Lydia says lowly. She knew that the retribution for disobeying her mother would be great.

“We’re already under attack!” Aaron argues.

“Not _her,_ ” Lydia repeats. “If she wanted you dead, she’d send her whole horde and not just a dozen in waves.”

“Or maybe she’s trying to tire us out,” Carol throws at her and Daryl shoots her a warning look.

Eugene speaks up in Lydia’s defense, toying with the idea that the satellite may have signaled to distant hordes and it was only coincidental that they came in specific waves when Margo, one of the angry Highwaymen people who had moved to Alexandria, shouted to him to shut up. “Enough about the satellite, Eugene! My friends _died_ trying to save yours and ended up with their heads on pikes. The Highwaymen want justice!” The other Highwaymen members and even some others from other communities started cheering. The mob was growing. “Let’s go take that lead bitch’s head off and put _it_ on a pike!”

“Let’s put _all_ their heads on pikes!” Gage, one of the teenagers from Hilltop who’s friends were pike victims, shouted. More people were cheering to take Alpha out and put her head on a pike.

Tara shudders at the mention of the pikes. There are flashes before her eyes of a blade slicing through flesh, blood spilling across a barn floor, headless bodies piled in front of her. Images of Alpha’s face, her sinister smile as screams filled the air. Of the zombified heads on the pikes, eyes void and mouths moving slowly as dead growls left their blue lips. She pushes off the wall, leaving quickly. She felt the panic attack forming and she hears Rosita’s footfalls hurrying behind her.

Daryl, Maggie and Michonne watch them leave in concern, knowing very well why. Michonne and Maggie fix Margo with icy glares.

“Daryl. How many walkers did you see in Alpha’s horde?” Michonne asks in a tight voice.

“Tens of thousands,” Daryl responds, feeling Lydia’s shudder under his hands. He squeezes her shoulders again.

“Margo! You plan on running in and just…taking out Alpha? Say you survive, you succeed, and take out however many are with her. The Whisperer army itself are hundreds, and they will _retaliate_. They will send that horde. What’s your plan with dealing with that horde?” When she gets no response she folds her arms, fixing a cold look. “That wasn’t rhetorical.”

Margo huffs. “We have no plan,” she admits, seething.

Michonne straightens, looking the crowd over before speaking loud and clear, projecting her voice sternly. “If she sends that horde, it’s game over. Right now, all she wants to do is talk. And we are going to _listen_. While we are gone to meet her, everybody here needs to _focus_ on what’s coming from the North and South. We are _all_ tired and on edge and it will get worse before it gets better. We won’t get through this at all if we don’t act as one.”

That shuts the rebellious chatter up and everyone shifts, some looking to others, some looking at the floor in shame for their reckless thoughts. Margo’s face doesn’t change, neither do Gage’s. But Michonne decides they aren’t a threat of going rogue, at least not at the moment and that’s good enough for her.

She motions for Daryl, Carol and Maggie to follow her as they leave the room. Daryl informs Lydia to hurry along home, not wanting her to pay the price for the riled up people. Once he sees her head in the direction of home he follows the others.

The four met the smaller meeting room, one made for small, private meetings. It was rarely used—the meeting room which doubled as the school was the go-to room to meet in. Michonne spread papers across the table, scribbling down the needed information.

“There are three objectives,” she says, drawing figures at different points, “which means three groups. Gabriel will continue to take point at defending the wall from the Northern wave. Rosita will join him if she’s up for it. They can choose a few more fighters. Aaron will take some troops out to handle the Southern wave before it reaches here. And then that leaves us to meet them at the border.”

“Just _us?”_ Maggie asks in concern.

“We’ll bring Laura, Kal and Marcos,” Daryl answers, nodding. “But no more, we don’t need to seem more a threat. We need this to work, we worked too hard to start a war now. If we have to later, we will. But not _now_.”

The other three nod in agreeance. Well, Maggie and Michonne do. Carol looks annoyed the entire time, anger brewing deep inside of her chest.

“And _remember_ ,” Michonne adds, “Alpha told her people Lydia is dead. We need to keep that lie true. If they find out she lied and Lydia’s alive, they might turn on her. We need her in charge, because as long as we have Lydia in the communities, she likely won’t attack unless she needs to, especially if she doesn’t know _which_ community she’s in. Keeping Lydia’s existence hidden keeps us all alive.”

Daryl bristles, hating the fact as everyone who didn’t see the kid as an enemy saw her as a pawn to use, not a child who’d been used and abused and deserved to live in a happy, safe home. But Michonne was right in the fact as having Lydia here meant protection. He just wished they saw her as _more_.

Michonne went off to update Gabriel and Aaron while Maggie went to check on Tara and Rosita. Daryl was left with Carol. “You gon be good going out there?” He asks, not feeling sure.

“’Course. I’ll be _fine_.”

He eyes her, unsure. But he leaves to go check on Lydia before leaving. Carol follows, saying she was getting a different jacket. While he goes up to Lydia’s room, Carol goes into hers and after checking the doorway, pulls her hidden pistol from under her bed. She shoves the gun into the back of her trousers before exiting the room.

“You stay inside, y’here?” She hears Daryl say from inside of Lydia’s room. “I want you safe.”

“ _You_ need to be safe,” she hears Lydia say barely above a whisper. “Whatever she tells you, you gotta do. You _can’t_ fight her. _Please_. If you don’t, she could hurt you. Or _worse_ …if you aren’t here, I have no one.”

Carol edges to the doorway in time to see him give the girl a hug. Daryl wasn’t a touchy person, but he wrapped his arms around the girl holding her close. And she feels a rush of anger.

That should be her and _her_ child. That girl came into Henry’s life, he had been determined to save her, and he had paid for that with his life. He was abducted and had his head chopped off. He had turned as his head was put on a pike for everyone to see, his body never found. She had lost him and never got to say goodbye, and here was the girl who’s existence had caused it all snug in her best friend’s arms. It wasn’t like she hated the girl—she just hated her being _here_ where she could see her, hear her. Her child was dead, but the child of the woman who murdered him was safe and sound where her own child belonged.

She reached back, feeling the cool metal of the gun. She was going to use it, and she knew it’d feel good. That woman would pay for what she did.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl, Carol, Michonne, Maggie, Laura, Cal and Marco reached the pikes as the darkness spread over the land. Carol froze and looked down. Daryl followed her gaze and saw what had caused her pause. The necklace, made of a yo-yo string and a wooden coin like pendant with an _“H”_ carved on it. The necklace Henry had given Lydia, the necklace Lydia had placed at the foot of his pike as she said goodbye to him the fall before. He was surprised the necklace was still preserved.

“Heads up,” Laura voices and they all look up, seeing the walkers moving through the fog. Then they realized they were Whisperers mixed in when a few fell back to distract the following walkers and Alpha took her skin off, straightening and walking towards them like a person. They see the ones who walked ahead behind Alpha had weapons. They dropped their weapons, making a show of doing it for Alpha. Daryl put down his crossbow, Michonne her katana, Maggie her gun and axe, the others theirs. Carol keeps her pistol hidden in the back of her pants.

Alpha slinked up so she stood on the other side of the pikes, facing them. “We have one rule between our people. _One_ law. You stay where you are, and you disobeyed.”

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head. “That fire wouldda destroyed _your_ land, too.”

Alpha shrugs, a disinterested look on her face. Cool blue eyes met his. “Fire’s nature is to burn. We have no conflict with nature.”

Michonne edged forward, but not in a threatening way. It was a way to get her attention, to try to make her see reason. “It could’ve wiped out one of our communities. We could not just sit back and watch, you can understand that. We crossed _one_ time.”

Alpha nearly looks amused, with a hint of annoyance. “ _Three_ times you crossed into my land. During the fire you crossed into my land, during the winter storm you crossed into my land, and you crossed into my land when you searched along the river with the man with the metal arm. I told you—we are _always_ watching.” She paces slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. “What did I tell you about crossing into our lands? You have to be punished. But—I will consider contest. No bloodshed will happen _this_ time.”

Daryl scowls, not wanting to push but remembering Lydia’s request. But he needed to know what this bitch meant. “What do you want?” He growls.

“Land,” she answers simply. “The creek that intertwines through the valley is your new Southern border. We will mark the new Northern border.”

Carol scoffs to Daryl’s right. “That’ll cut off most of our hunting grounds. I’m not going to stand here and listen to this—”

_“Carol!”_ Maggie yells angrily.

Alpha stalks in front of Carol, hands behind her back as she tilts her head. “To this…what?”

“This _bullshit,_ ” Carol spits out.

Daryl grabs at her arm, blood boiling. He promised that kid he’d be careful, that they’d listen to her mother. Maggie had a little boy, Michonne had children. They couldn’t risk it and here was Carol willing to risk all of their lives, to orphan these children. He understood, but at the moment he didn’t really care. “Right, we’re done here,” he starts t pull Carol away. “Let’s go!”

“We’re not,” Alpha says to halt him. “Not until this one here lowers her eyes to my feet.” He prayed Carol would be submissive but he knew she never would. Not after what this woman had done to Henry. Carol met Alpha’s eyes with a steely look of her own. Alpha lowers her voice to a whisper that sent unnerving shivers down their spines. “You should fear me.”

Carol jutted her chin out defiantly. “When I look at you…I feel nothing at all.”

“Is that right? Your boy screamed your name right before I took his head. I killed him last, I wanted him to feel that fear for leading my baby astray. He took my daughter so I took his life.”

Carol’s eyes filled with tears of anger, of pain. The thought of Henry scared, watching the others being beheaded before his eyes. The thought of the pain and fear he went through, alone and knowing the end was coming with no escape. She reaches behind her and whips out the gun, aiming at the monstrous woman and pulls the trigger. Daryl grabs her arm, wrenching it away and the bullet misses it’s mark. he nearly sighs in relief when it hits the ground and not in a different Whisperer—they’re in no shape to go to war. Daryl kicks her feet from under her, sending the gun flying from her hand and he pins her to the ground harshly. She’s his best friend, but he is angry beyond belief at her recklessness.

Michonne steps forward, hands raised in defense. Her eyes meet Daryl’s before she looks to Alpha. “I apologize for my friend. We haven’t slept in days and you know what she’s lost.”

Alpha watches them with a contemplative look on her face before moving to stand in front of a pinned Carol, looking down with mock sympathy. “I forgive you, mother to mother.” Her smile is malicious, cruel. She pulled up Henry’s pike and the other Whisperers pick up the others. “This is _our_ land now. You better run.”

Daryl hauls Carol to her feet and pushes her forward. “Go!” Alpha’s gaze meets his, a questioning look. He knew what it meant—her look was asking if she was wrong, asking if he had been able to protect her daughter. He nods slightly, his nod telling her that the kid was safe and he still had her. He then turns and runs after the others.

They ran into the dark, and once they were far enough away to be safe they decided to build a fire. They were waiting until morning to continue their way back to Alexandria. Laura, Cal and Marco sat around it. Daryl was standing a bit away, near enough to Carol but not by her.

Michonne walked over to Carol. “Carol, listen—”

“She has to die. I’m getting more firewood,” is all she says before storming off into the dark.

Daryl watches, debating following before sauntering over to Michonne. “She ain’t been the same since she stepped off that boat. Maybe she was better off. Maybe she found some real peace out there.”

“She belongs here with us.”

“She ain’t sleeping. I hear her moving ‘round the house at night. Wakes Lydia up often enough with her wandering and mumbling. Sure she’s woken you or your kids at some point.”

“She does, but she can’t help it. she’ll get through it, we all did at our own time. We just gotta be patient with her, give her time.”

“Hope your right,” he sighs.

It wasn’t much longer when gunshots ring by and he jumps into action. It was Carol, he knew it was. He raced towards the sound, Michonne on his heels. They find her panting frantically.

“They were here! The Whisperers—three of them, just watching me. I shot at them, I don’t know if I shot them but—”

Daryl sees the others have joined them. “Laura, Cal, Marco, go check that way. Maggie, Michonne, Carol and I will check this way.”

They split into two groups, heading out. They search for a while, but there’s no trace of anyone.

“There’s no sign of anyone. No trace or even tracks. Are you _sure_ you saw _three_ of them?” Maggie asks tiredly.

“I’m sure.”

Michonne eyes Carol with concern. “Carol, how long have you been taking those pills?”

“I’m fine,” Carol snaps. “I’ve been taking them since I stepped off the damn boat. It’s like taking coffee, that’s it.”

Nobody said anything else, they just trudged forward. Eventually they came across what appeared to be an old high school. Daryl radios Laura, telling her they’re hunkering down for the night. Laura says they found nothing and informs him that they’re just going to head back home which he agrees to. they promise to check in if anything happens and then he puts the walkie away. Daryl and Carol go one way to clear the area, Michonne and Maggie the other.

They had cleared it in an hour and decided to take turns in shifts.

It was late into the night, Carol’s second watch, when Daryl was woken up by her screams. He jumped up, shouting for Michonne and Maggie as he ran in the direction of the screams _“Daryl, help!”_

He bursts into the auditorium and finds her laying in a puddle of shattered glass and blood, walkers all around her. “Jesus, Carol.” He examines her arm, seeing her own blood dripping where a big chunk of glass was embedded. She’s scooped up, Michonne radioing to Laura to have Dante prep for Carol for the moment they arrive back home.

They rushed her back, moving faster than they expected. Morning still had\s yet to come when they get Carol through the gates of Alexandria and into Dante’s infirmary. He all but kicks everyone out, promising to update soon.

The three stay outside the infirmary in mostly tense silence, neither moving nor speaking for the most part until Dante stepped out of the infirmary.

“Is she alright?” Maggie is the first to speak.

“I patched her up and she’s out like a light,” he confirms with his unsettling smile.

“Can we see her?” Daryl asks.

“Only if you’re quiet,” he says in a whisper.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

It had been the longest night Rosita could remember. Starting from early afternoon, through the night and into the morning taking out wave after wave with little time to breathe. She was exhausted and had gone to her old place that was waiting for her, Eugene following. She wanted to go see Tara and Coco who were still at Michonne’s but this was closest and she just needed to be off her feet for a bit.

“Ah, damn. Tired,” she breathes as she collapses onto a chair.

“You should be. You were as mean as a Mama Wasp out there,” he comments to her.

“Yeah, you were as tough as a…”

“Stewed skunk?”

“Batshit badger.”

“Pissed off penguin.”

She laughs. “All of the above.”

He chuckles before he realizes how quiet the house was. “Rosita, where’s Coco?”

“Probably sleeping.”

He gives her a look. “I think you’ve confused my inquiry for her action when I was trying to discern locale.”

She shakes her head with a grin at concern and jumble of words. By now she was fluent in Eugene but she still confused plenty of others. “She’s with Tara at Michonne’s place. Tara is watching several of the kids…Eugene, are you okay?”

He has a strange look on his face. “Just…that little nugget can’t grow up without her Mama, which is why I went out with you today. To protect you because—”

“Protect me? I taught _you_ how to fight!”

“Rosita…”

Rosita sees it in his eyes. Undeniable love. He had a crush on her when they had met eight years ago. He had snuck looks as she had sex with Abraham, stared at her ass and down her shirt, said crude comments and asked dirty questions. But that scared, immature man had faded away and became one of the greatest friends she ever had. He knew she played around with Siddiq, knew she had _something_ with Gabriel. He didn’t judge her sex life nor showed interest in it. He looked at her like an equal if not superior, not as a woman with a hot body. He was genuine with her. She had thought that crush had been long gone, but here it is resurfacing with a burning passion. Resurfacing right as she was finally happy—truly happy with whom she believed was the love of her life.

“Damn it, Eugene!” She says in exasperation, getting up on her tired feet. He had to make things complicated. “You and I are _never_ going to happen! You are not Coco’s father—Tara is her other parent. Tara and I are together, I _love_ her. You and I won’t happen. I _need_ you to hear that.” She sees the hurt written all over his face and she sighs, sitting back down beside him. “I’m sorry…that was harsh. I’m _so_ tired I feel drunk.” Her head falls onto her arms which are crossed onto the table. She draws an unsteady breath.

He finally looks back at her. “Are you familiar with the expression _‘a drunk mind speaks a sober heart’_?”

_“No,”_ she says in annoyance. She was tired, _so_ tired.

He sighs like it’s the hardest thing in the world to say. “When under the influence, inhibitions are lowered and secrets and truths pour out.” She lifts her head to fix him with a look. “Pun intended. Sleep deprivation lowers inhibitions, enhances impulsivity and in similar manner that’s when you say, ‘that’s not going to happen,’ and that’s unfiltered truth straight from your ticker.”

Rosita almost feels like crying, in frustration or pain she’s not sure. “For years I’ve been trying to tell you that!”

He sighs heavily. “And I did not listen because I thought perhaps someday, there might be something special between you and your truly. But there’s nothing there, there never was.”

She scoffs, her heart physically hurting. “You think that our friendship is just nothing? Is that _your_ unfiltered truth?”

He gets up and it hurts more. “I don’t mean to eat sorrow by the spoonful in front of ya, but I’m in the midst of experiencing a crushing moment of clarity.” His voice wobbles and it’s clear that he’s now struggling not to cry. “Our whole friendship is premised on my mistaken belief that perhaps one day I could change your mind. That you could see that I was worthy enough to be rezoned into love town. And what kind of friend is that?”

“Eugene…” her voice is close to breaking, a tear escaping.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. And then he’s gone.

She drops her head in her hands and the sobs consume her. She mourns losing her best friend—a friendship she’s had for longer than she’s even known Tara, a friendship that was building up for _eight_ years.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The waves had ceased and things had settled. Daryl had brought Carol home and got her situated. He was still pissed at her, but he would deal with that when she was well.

He made his way to Lydia’s room and finds the teen asleep, her face in a small frown. She tiptoes over to the bed and brushes her hair back with a gentle hand. The corner of his mouth twitches when her distressed face softens into peaceful. Ever so carefully he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, something he never dared do while she was awake. He leaves quietly, unaware of her eyes flickering open and the tiniest of smiles gracing her lips.

Michonne had went home at the same time to relieve Tara of child duty. She sees Gracie’s absence and Tara informs her that Aaron had retrieved her. She takes Coco and Hershel and leaves.

Michonne sits on the bed, stroking RJ’s peaceful face as he sleeps.

“Is it safe?” Judith asks from the same perch at the window from the day before.

“For now,” Michonne says and the girl smiles before climbing in on the other side of Hershel.

When Tara reached her home, she found Maggie sipping some tea and she takes Hershel off her hands with a grateful smile. After a quick check in, Tara headed up to find Rosita. She finds her in what was her old room. She lays Coco in the bassinet before climbing into bed beside her.

“Ro? Are you okay?”

Rosita rolls over to look at her and Tara can see that she had been smile. Rosita just smiles her broken smile and strokes Tara’s cheek.

“No. But now that you’re here I will be.”

Tara pulls her close, holding her to her. for a while now it had been Rosita holding Tara through her tears. But this time, roles were reversed and Tara had never felt better holding onto the woman she loved, listening to every detail Rosita choked out through her tears. She knew they’d be okay no matter what as long as they had each other.


	13. Silence the Whispers

**_Hilltop_ **

The sounds of the tree creaking as it fell, crashing onto the gate and subsequently through the barns roof was deafening. The earth shook, startling everyone awake. Magna and Yumiko, who were curled up against each other, shot up awake. Thy shared a concerned look, both slipping out of bed to find their clothes. Jesus and Maggie, both in their own rooms tired from the journey back to Hilltop that afternoon jumped up, meeting in the hallway.

They met up with Yumiko and Magna on their way outside to see what had happened. The four froze in their tracks when they saw the destruction ahead of them. A dozen scared people were surrounding the caving in barn.

They see people working near the tree and they ran over. Alden’s there, Earl behind him. “Stop!” Alden calls to the workers. “That might not hold.”

“Alden’s right,” Earl confirms, face grave in the dying light. “If there’s too many of us moving around, the tree could crash down on our heads. We need to be very careful.”

“Okay, guys. Get the horses out of there!”

“Magna?” Yumiko says, moving to aid with the removal of the horses. “You’re the quickest. Can you go get Alex?”

Magna nods, tuning and running as fast as she can in the direction of the infirmary. Alex, who was originally from Alexandria, had moved to Hilltop to take over after Enid’s murder. Connie, Kelly and Luke had joined in helping move the horses out of the barn and to the pens. Connie had a thoughtful look on her face and Yumiko nudges her.

_“What’s up?”_ she signs.

Connie shrugs. _“The tree…I don’t know.”_ She rests her head against the bay horses neck with a sigh.

_“What, you think it was them?”_ Luke asks aloud as he signs.

“It was them?” Earl asks angrily. “Of _course_ it was them!”

“They already cut off our hunting grounds, and for why? Because we crossed into their territory to put out a damn forest fire!” Alden scoffs, the memory of what they took from him still angry and raw.

“We were already at war, kid. We just didn’t know it yet!”

Dianne and Jerry make their appearance, stumbling out of the wreckage with some injured people who had been in and around the barn at the time of the collapse. “Nine are injured. Several more are trapped and we need to get them free,” Dianne shouts.

“That’s going to take a hell of a long time to get them out,” Jesus groans, running a hand through his hair.

“Probably all night,” Maggie agrees. “We have to do it very carefully.”

“You said nine were injured?” Alex speaks up from examining the one hanging onto Dianne. “The infirmary only has enough beds for four, _maybe_ five.”

“We can use my old office for treatment, that whole area is open and will work for that. Worst case scenario we use the bedrooms off of it. Tara’s in Alexandria still so we can use her room if need be. My room, too.”

“And mine,” Jesus adds.

“That will work,” Alex agrees.

“Alright,” Maggie speaks up. “Marco, Cal, go get sheets or cots and whatever we might need for the office to be a temporary infirmary. Magna, Connie, Kelly, Luke, get anything we cam use for stretchers for those who can’t walk. Yumiko, Jerry, Dianne, you’re with Jesus and I with working on getting everyone out.”

“This is going to be a very long night,” Jesus groans.

“A very long one indeed,” Maggi agrees with a long sigh.

**_Alexandria_ **

Lydia walked down the street, staff slung over her shoulder, the basket of freshly picked apples per Daryl’s request in her hand. She sees Aaron with some others and it looked like a training session. She edged closer to listen in, curious.

“These people killed our friends, they took our land. They _must_ be stopped,” Aaron says fervently. Lydia feels her stomach twist. He was talking about her mother, her former people. Talking about exterminating them.

One of the people in the group turned and she saw it was Gage. She feels her stomach drop further. Gage who ever since the fair was cruel to her. Knocking his shoulder against hers as he passed by, sticking his foot out to trip her in the lunch room where she’d fall, getting covered in her own food for everyone to laugh at—she had almost just stopped eating altogether, only eating dinner when Daryl made her. Sometimes Gage would be standing beside her and he’d pinch her so hard she’d have a deep purple welt. Sometimes he just harassed her and called her names. Lately his friends—two adults much older than them—had joined in the harassment and the tripping and hitting.

“Hey, Lydia!” Gage calls, a smirk on his lips. Part of her wanted to punch that smirk off his face, anther part wanted to run like a coward. He pulled a sack over his head with the eye holes cut out to mimic a skin. “You think mommy will take me in? Oh, right. She kicked your ass out and exiled you _here_ , and now you’re nothing but a freak.”

Margo looked at her with so much hatred it sent a chill down her spine but she jutted her chin out defiantly. “Get the hell out of here!” She seethed. Lydia knew she didn’t mean to leave the area—Margo had meant to disappear, to leave Alexandria.

“Hey, you three!” Aaron called. He wasn’t a fan of the Whisperer kid, but that’s what she was—a _kid_. And not just any kid, _Daryl’s_ kid. And he wasn’t going to give Daryl a reason to turn on him after years of friendship. “Leave her be and get your asses back to training. Don’t make me go get Daryl.” He looks to Lydia. “Go home.”

Lydia backs way, eying the three cruel ones before walking away. She didn’t head home, though. She made her way in the direction of the laundry section, where she always went after a long day. She’d hide there until Negan had a break, and he’d come cheer her up. So she found her usual spot, crouching down and waited for him. She didn’t wait long, not even ten minutes later Negan appeared with a heavy sigh.

“Are you looking for a job, kid?”

“Just trying to clear my head,” she says like she does every time. He sees right through her.

“This is your third visit this week, and we’re only five days into the week. If you keep this up, you’re going to find a pair of socks with your name on them.”

She deflates, shoulders dropping. “Gage and his friends started again.”

“Again? Jesus.” Negan knew of every push, every trip, every bruise and every tear caused by them. “Kid, look. Obviously, you’ve had a day, but what happened with trying to roll with it?”

She scoffs. “I’m not just going to sit back and take it.”

“Well, I didn’t say to do _that._ I also didn’t say to run and hide, I mean _shit_.”

“You said to kill them with kindness.”

“Okay, I did say that. Look, kiddo. They’re trying to get a reaction out of you. They’re bullies. They want to see you hurt and upset so don’t let them see that. Screw them.”

They both startled when the sheet behind them is yanked open and Daryl stalked into the space, anger written over his features. The anger was directed fully to Negan. “Let’s go,” he says to his ward.

“I’m good,” Lydia says, unmoving.

“Now!” He snaps, instantly feeling guilty for how she flinched. But she got up regardless, stalking past him.

“She’s just trying to fit in,” Negan tells Daryl.

Daryl fixes him with a stony look. “That ain’t ever going to happen if she’s seen hanging out with you, now is it?” He snaps. He storms past him to find Lydia waiting for him. She didn’t just take off for home and lock herself in her room, so that was a plus. When she saw him she pushed herself off the wall and stalked ahead of him—no longer a plus.

“Why were you over there?” He asks her, willing her to slow her annoyed pace down but not saying anything.

“We were just talking.”

“He ain’t your friend.” He regrets it as soon as it comes out, but not because he was talking about Negan. Negan, who bashed Glenn’s head to pulp in front of Maggie. Negan, who held him hostage in a cell and treated him less than an animal and fed him canned dog food. Negan, who put them through months of pure hell. But because it was about Lydia. Sweet, broken Lydia who had no friends and nobody but him in her corner.

“He gets me.”

That hits him. _Hard_. “Just stay away from him, alright?”

She doesn’t respond but she freezes. He catches up, looking confused. He follows her look of horror and he sees it: _“silence the whispers”_ was painted in bright yellow across their door. He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, being her anchor.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

_Silence the whispers_. It was painted all over Alexandria.

When Tara stepped out of Rosita’s old place and saw the words painted, she wished she had returned back to Hilltop with Maggie.

_The sword slicing through skin like butter, blood spreading across a barn floor, a bloody finger pressing to cruel lips to shush her cries. “Tell them,” sounds in her ear and she can’t breathe. There’s distorted voices, ones she hadn’t heard before. A man’s voice, but she can’t make out what he says. She sees a new masked face shushing her. Unfamiliar hands grabbing her body, keeping her in place as the others are beheaded._

_The words and screams jumble together, the images flashing before her eyes. It was an onslaught of terror filling her and making every breath she took feel like a white hot iron being jabbed into her chest._

She hears Rosita call her name. She hears it but she can’t respond.

The world slips from under her and the distorted imaged and sounds are swirling as she does. She feels the explosion of pain as she falls the rest of the way down the front steps. She almost wishes she had hit her head because if she had, she wouldn’t be feeling everything. The pain from the past, the pain from the fall.

It all hits her like a tidal wave and she prays for something to stop it. For anything to stop it. To stop the pain spreading through her body, the heaviness in her chest threatening to snuff the light out of her. Eventually there’s a pull and the rushing sound begins to ease and there’s a tear in the flashes as spots of normal, present day vision comes into view. She sees a face hovering over her and as she processes, she realizes it’s Rosita’s face, concern prominent in her features. She comes to the realization that her head is on Rosita’s lap, Rosita’s hand stroking her sweaty hair back. Then she realizes they aren’t alone. She sees Daryl, rare concern on his face. The new doctor, Dante. Aaron. Gabriel.

“Are you with us, love?” Rosita asks, her voice impossibly gentle and soft. Tara mumbles, nodding jerkily. “We should get her to the infirmary now.”

Daryl moves over, kneeling down. “I got her.” Rosita helps Tara ease up so Daryl can get an arm around the base of her back and under her knees, lifting her up easily.

“I’m fine,” she breathes out. He ignores her complaint and carries her to the infirmary. He puts her down on the cot and she grumbles at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re _not_ fine,” Rosita says, her voice tense. “You just had a panic attack and fell down the front steps. What happened?”

“I don’t…I saw the painting, those _silence the whispers_. And then I was on the ground.”

“Was is the same as usual?” Rosita sits beside her and Tara sighs, shaking her head.

“It was at _first_. But then there was something new. I don’t know if it’s a memory or something my mind made up.”

“What was it?”

“It was a new face and a new voice. It sounded _so_ familiar but I don’t know where.”

“Sounds like a case of PTSD to me,” Dante’s voice sounded as he walked into the room. “As much as you all being here for her is appreciated, she needs her space. And I need to focus.”

Daryl gives Tara’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving. Aaron follows suit. “Like hell I’m leaving,” Rosita says, her voice dangerously low. She gives him a look, daring him to try to make her leave.

“Alright, you’re good,” he says, hands up. “You’ll probably be better at talking about what’s going on than her anyways. I think I’m more concerned over what’s going on in her head than the scratches and bruises from the fall.”

“It’s a lot better than before,” Tara says defensively.

“It is,” Rosita confirms.

“But it could be much better. Now I don’t have the technology for the more accurate treatments. But there’s other types of therapies that can be done, medications—”

“You _aren’t_ drugging me.”

“Tara, let him finish.”

“It’s not drugging you up. Even if I wanted to, which I _don’t_ , we don’t have the resources for that. But a lower dosed medication given sparingly just to help you settle? Now _that_ we could do.”

“No,” Tara shakes her head. “Not medication.”

“Tara…” Rosita sighs. “At least think about it.”

“There’s types of therapies,” he offers and Tara just shakes her head.

“We’ll talk about that and see,” Rosita says tiredly. “Just take care of any injuries from that fall for now.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

**_Hilltop_ **

The walkers were building up at the gate, the snarls overwhelming and no doubt drawing more. Magna, Yumiko, Luke, Jerry and Dianne stumble from the rubble, propping up more injured survivors.

Magna shudders at the growing growls. “Jesus! There’s more out there!” She calls to the Hilltop leader who was talking with Alden and Earl about how to remove the tree as safely as possible.

“That’s not good,” he breathes, move swiftly towards them, Alden on his heels.

“Will it hold?” Yumiko asks, voice tense.

“Barely?” Alden looks at her, not liking the creaking sound. “If they keep pushing on the wall it’ll bring not just the tree but the whole wall down. Earl has some timber stacked up by the house, we could use that to try to brace it.”

“How long do we have?” Jesus asks.

“Hopefully long enough.”

“You guys work on the wall, we’ll take care of the walkers!” Yumiko calls.

Jesus, Alden, Jerry and Dianne run to get the timbers while Yumiko, Magna, Luke, Kelly and Connie grabbed their weapons and ran out of the gate.

There was a good size group. Luke and Magna went forward wielding their axes. Yumiko wasn’t too far behind, letting arrows fly. Kelly and Connie glad climbed up on a wood pile with their slingshots and stones.

More came and fear was spreading. But they had to work hard to take them out, or they were all in danger.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

**_Alexandria_ **

Stepping into the common area where others ate lunch was unfamiliar. Lydia rarely went into the room, especially as of late. But she had anger brewing, and with Negan’s advice failing and Daryl forbidding her to get more advice from him to try, she had decided to take it into her own hands. All she knew was what her mother had taught her, and that’s all she had to use.

She sought out Gage and his friends, finding the three at a table together. She stalked over, sitting down in the chair beside Gage, scooting right in his space.

“Can I have some room, please?” Gage asks, uncomfortable with the closeness.

Lydia pulled a dead squirrel out of her bag, plopping it on the table. This specific moment she got from Daryl—his story of how he’d skin opossums on the front porch when he first came to Alexandria. But she wasn’t Daryl, but she did know her mother’s ways. The way of instilling fear. She couldn’t think of any other way. She unsheathes her hunting knife Daryl had given to her and she stabs it into the dead rodent and begins gutting it. Blood sprays up, splattering across Gage’s face.

“Oh my god, what is wrong with you?” He says, disturbed. “You are crazy!”

“Is this why Ozzy and Alek died? So these people can make a fool out of us?” The man, Alfred, whispers.

“Not _here,_ ” Margo says in a warning tone, looking at Lydia with pure hatred.

Lydia lifts a blood soaked hand, sticking a finger up and putting it in front of her lips. “Shh.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Gage says, his voice shaky. The three get up and leave and Lydia leans back with a satisfied smile. It vanishes almost instantly when a shadows crosses over her and she sees Tara, arms folded with an eyebrow raised.

“Come on,” she says, gesturing. “Get up. Don’t need to make a scene.”

“They deserve it,” Lydia says but gets up anyways. She gathers up the dead squirrel and wipes the blood up before following Tara out. Tara leads her to a water spout and Lydia groans, scrubbing her hands clean of blood in the water.

“What’d you mean that they deserve it?”

Lydia eyes her. “They’re bullies.”

“Bullies how?”

“They just call me names. Sometimes push,” she shrugs. “I hate them.”

“We need to tell Daryl.”

“Do we have to?” Lydia asks, sighing.

“He’ll hear it from somebody else, better he hears it from you first.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, something she had become very well versed in. She follows Tara, heading towards home. She slows with every step, especially when Daryl sitting on the front steps working on his bike came into view.

“Daryl,” Tara says, getting his attention.

He looks up at them. “Are you even supposed to be out and about?”

“Just some bruises, few scrapes. No bad injuries, I’m fine.”

He grunts at that, disagreeing. Then he notices Lydia. “What happened now?”

“She took a page out of _your_ book. She brought a dead squirrel to the common room and gutted it next to Gage. Then proceeded to coat her hand in the blood and shush them.” Daryl groans and rubs a hand over his face.

Tara leaves and Daryl gets up, motioning Lydia to follow him. She trudges after him, bracing herself for his anger. He stomped down the steps leading to the basement and she follows. He shoos her forward, standing in the doorway so she can’t escape the talk.

“You _do_ want to live here, right?”

“They deserved it.”

“I know,” Daryl admits. He didn’t know the specifics, but he knew that they had been giving the kid a harder time than they should be. “But you can’t do shit like that.”

“But _they_ can write that shit on our door?” She scoffs. It was unfair.

“I’ll talk to ‘em, set ‘em straight. Make ‘em leave you be.”

“No, please! That’ll just make it worse. I don’t want you to fight my fights. They want me to give up, but I can’t.”

He sighs. “Can’t you just avoid them?”

He knows he said the wrong thing when her mask goes up and she looks at him with a void look. “Fine.” She walks over, brushing past him.

“Great,” He huffs, leaning back against the wall. He felt like all he was doing was failing this kid.

He had gone home, waiting for her to blow off steam and come home. He was worried and starting to get annoyed at her absence as hours went by. Nevertheless, when dinnertime rolled around, when he served himself and RJ spaghetti, he still made her a plate for her to eat when she eventually sulked back home.

Meanwhile, Lydia was waking around aimlessly. She was mulling over what everyone said—lying to Tara about how bad it was, telling Daryl not to interfere, storming away from him when he was only trying to help.

After a few hours of just walking, knowing Daryl would be pissed since she knew from the sky turning black that dinner was already over, she ended up walking through the laundry area as a shortcut for home. She considered stopping by Negan’s quarters but decided against it. She and him would both be in a lot of trouble if they were caught. Her for lurking around his quarters, him for leaving the quarters after dark.

She turns the corner and pauses when Margo appears. She takes half a step backwards. Margo shushes her, finger up against a malicious smile. She turns to flee only for Alfred and Gage to pop up behind her. She could duck under the hanging sheets, but she felt trapped. She pulled her staff over her shoulder, getting ready to defend herself when Margo grabbed her from behind.

“Why do you hate me so much?” She cries out, struggling against her.

“You put my friends on spikes,” Margo hisses.

“I wasn’t even there!”

Margo lets go, shoving her forward but keeps the staff. Lydia stumbles forward, barely keeping herself upright. “Ozzy was always a fair man. So in his honor I’ll give you one last chance. Run away now and we’ll play dumb when they ask us.”

Lydia may hate it here, might be afraid of being here. But it held nothing to the fear being out there where she could slide back into her mother’s abusive grasp. “This is my home. You’re my people.”

Margi’s face scrunches up in anger and she’s struck in the head by her own staff. She cries out when the blow knocks her on the ground and feels the blood trickle down her forehead. She feels arms grab onto her and there’s Alfred’s face, and then his fist. He punches her face once, then twice. Blood drips from where her eyebrow is split from Alfred’s punches. She hears Margo tell Gage to get in there, to throw his own punches. Alfred hauls her up roughly to her knees and she feels like she’s on trial for execution.

“Think of your friends Addy and Rodney,” Margo pushes, trying to get him to join in.

“Please!” Lydia pleads with a heart wrenching sob when she sees the shocked look on Gage’s face. “I loved Henry,” she sobs. “You know I loved him. Please!”

He shakes his head and swings, his fist connecting with her face. The metallic taste of blood fills her mouth and dribbles out. He grabs her feet, pulling her towards him. She screams, kicking. She was desperate to get away, to escape the fear and pain overtaking her. There’s three of them and one of her. The two men overpower her easily, getting in more punches than she can fight.

“Get off of me!” She screams as Gage climbs onto her, straddling her. She thrashes at the weight but she can’t throw him. Alfred grabs her wrists roughly, pinning her wrists above her head and ignores her sobs. “No!”

“Margo! Margo get her!”

Margo is above her and she sees her lift the staff high and she braces herself. This was it. She wasn’t ready to die, she had so much to do. So much to say.

As the staff is about to crash into her head Margo is flung aside. She hears a thud. Alfred is ripped off of her, her stinging wrists finally free. Gage moves off of her on his own. She sees familiar boots nearing her and her savior crouches down, stroking her back. “Shh, it’s okay kiddo.” _Negan_. She grabs his foot, pulling herself closer to him. He was a lifeline, he had saved her from literal death. He stroked her hair off of her face, sticky with tears and blood alike. He tried to soothe the hysterical sobs coming from her.

“We were only tying to scare her,” Gage choked out. His eyes are shining with tears like he couldn’t believe how far it had gone.

“Hey, Negan!” His guards voice rang out. The sheet is brushed aside. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, shit. Margo!” Negan follows the gaze, seeing Margo’s limp body against the wall. Sees the flow of blood turning the white wall scarlet. Sees Alfred desperately feeling for a pulse and his enraged scream when he finds none. More people are gathering now. He looked down at the sobbing child, wondering how long she’d been screaming for help before he found her. He hadn’t heard her from his quarters. He had came out for some fresh air— _that_ was allowed but not to walk free alone—and heard her screams and ran as fast as he could without a second thought of the rules. He hadn’t known it was her at first, but he knew _someone_ was in danger. He had expected to find a woman fighting off a walker, not the child he cared deeply for getting beaten nearly to death by the same people he had called only mere bullies just hours before.

He feels deep regret. Not for throwing that woman off of Lydia. If he been even _seconds_ late Lydia would likely be dead, her own staff embedded in her head. He felt regret because of how everyone already saw him. He just turned back the clock. He was no longer Negan, the worker attempting redemption. He was now Negan, the monster who killed people. It was an accident, he had _accidentally_ killed someone. But that someone was trying to kill a _kid_. If it was Judith or Aaron’s girl, or even the teenage asshole who was pinning her down for the final blow they’d be calling him a hero. But because Lydia wasn’t one of the communities own child, was just Daryl’s ward, their enemies child, he would be called a murderer because in their eyes Negan should have let the kid get killed over defending her of it meant a community members death.

“Shit,” he mutters. He stays down, one hand curled around Lydia’s shaking back protectively, his other hand stroking her head trying to soothe her to no avail. _Oh shit,_ indeed.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl paced back and forth, grumbling angrily. It had been hours since dinner. It was growing late and he was about ready to go hunt her down. He knew she was angry but it was later than she was allowed out and she knew it. He figured she was purposely staying out to piss him off.

As he was yanking his boots on he hears an urgent knock on his door. _What happened now?_ he thinks. He thinks that it must involve Lydia. He can’t think of anything else, unless there was a horde approaching or a Whisperer showed up which was doubtful at this hour. He swings the door open to see an out of breath Tara. “What’s going on?”

“You need to come with me. It’s Lydia.”

“What’d she do?”

“Gage and his buddies, the ones who were bugging her earlier? They corned her and beat the shit out of her. She’s in real bad shape.”

That was all he needed to hear to grab his jacket and race out of the house after her. He follows her to the laundry area. He knew she liked cutting through there on her walk home, usually to hang out with Negan. He figures she must’ve been on her way home from wherever she was when they jumped her.

He hears her before he sees her, and it kills him. He hears her crying, heart wrenching sobs that hit him like a truck. When they reach them, all the sheets pulled down and in a pile for accessibility, he sees Negan crouched down, shielding her body protectively. He sees the guards look like they’re trying to get him up and away, and Rosita keeping them at bay. It must’ve been until Daryl’s arrival because the moment he’s in view, Negan rocks back to allow him over to her.

Daryl kneels down, putting a hand gently on her. He doesn’t miss the way she cries out, flinching away from his touch. He wasn’t sure if it was from pain or fear, or both. Daryl wasn’t a fan of Negan’s, not in the slightest but he _was_ trying to comfort Lydia, so he found the guard aggressively grabbing his jacket and hauling him up uncalled for. Negan couldn’t get far because Lydia had a death grip on his boot. Daryl tried to gently pry her hands off of Negan’s feet but she just screamed. “No, no!”

Negan yanked away from the guard, crouching down once more. “Don’t listen to them assholes,” he says quietly to Daryl. “They were gonna kill her.” With that he pulls Lydia’s hands off himself. He moves back and Daryl took his place. Lydia latched right onto him and he rubbed her back. Guilt flooded him. If he hadn’t been home stewing in anger for her being out too late, if he had just gone out to find her, then this wouldn’t have happened.

Dante is there, confirming Margo’s death and inserting a knife into her brain just in case. Her body is carried away, and Alfred who had been silent since he was shoved off of the girl spoke up. “You freak!” He screams at Lydia, lunging forward. “This is your fault.” Rosita moved swiftly and before anyone could react, she swung and punched him square in the jaw, making him stumble.

“No, it was Negan!” Gage shouts. “Negan _murdered_ her!”

“No! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Lydia screams near hysterically. It was the first coherent thing she’d said. “It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything wrong!”

Daryl saw the angry mob growing and he waves his arm at the guard, “get him out of here!”

“No _, please!”_ Lydia screams, trying to push herself up but collapsing in pain. “He didn’t do anything wrong! He _didn’t! Please!”_

Daryl strokes her head, shushing her gently. “I know, I know.” His voice is soft, gentle in a way nobody had ever heard him use outside of anyone but Judith and RJ. Lydia keeps repeating that Negan hadn’t done anything until she chokes on her own sobs, rendered speechless once more.

Daryl moves her, apologizing as she cries harder at the pain. He lifts her up, cradling her in his arms. He carries her to the infirmary, hearing someone following but not bothering to check. Once he’s in the infirmary, he lays her down as gently as he can. Someone touches his arm and he looks to see Tara.

“We’ve got it from here. Why don’t you go home, get her a change of clothes, check on RJ?”

“I can’t—I can’t leave her.”

“You’re in no shape to be in here. We gotta clean her up, her shirt is soaked in blood. She needs new clothes and you need to calm down. Ro and I are here, we’ve got her for now.”

He didn’t want to leave, but Tara wasn’t budging. He growls but leaves with one last look at the girl In the bed. He leaves, anger flooding him. He marches home, fuming. If anyone were to approach him at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from lashing out.

He had brought that kid here, taken her in and promised to protect her. He knew Gage and his friends bullied her, but he didn’t do anything. He hadn’t known how bad it was, but he should have pressed to find out. Instead he had sat back and let Lydia attempt to deal with it herself. Her being angry at him for stepping in when she asked him not to would have been better than her laying in the infirmary. He had failed her in every way he could have.

He manages to stop the rage when he went inside, if only for a sleeping RJ’s sake. He’s quiet going up the stairs, peering into RJ’s room to see him sprawled out on the bed, a peaceful look on his face. He goes into Lydia’s room, the place looking like nobody lived there. That stung, and he kicks himself for noticing before. She treated her bedroom like it was temporary. All of her belongings were neatly under her bed, in a bag ready for her to be cast out or run away. The closet and dresser are bare, besides a few books in a neat pile so was the tops of everything. He pulls the duffel bag, grabbing a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt.

When he reaches the infirmary, he hands the clothes over to Tara. He waits a long moment before the door reopens and he’s allowed in. She’s cleaned up and sitting on the gurney which was now pushed up against the wall. She’s sitting up and Dante lifts her arm and sticks an ice pack under it. He sees pain written all over her face.

“You good now?” Tara whispers.

He just nods. She pats his arm as she and Rosita leave. Dante follows suit to give him time alone with her, promising to be back to check on her again soon.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he manages to say. She’s silent, chin on her drawn up knees as she stares off in the distance. “Lydia?” He asks in concern, reaching out and gently touching her arm.

She looks up, eyes red and filled with tears. “I miss him,” she chokes out, voice strained from all her screams and sobs.

“Who?”

“My dad. I remember…he would have protected me.”

That was a stab in his heart, and it was even more evident how much he had failed her. He sits on the gurney beside her, arm going around her gently as not to hurt her. She leans into him instead of away and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Tell me what happened.”

“Negan saved my life,” she chokes out. “He saved me…”

He presses another kiss to his head. He was the furthest from a touchy feely person, but he knew she just needed the comfort. “I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m so sorry.”

She cries into his shirt and he holds onto her, chin on the top of her head as he lets her cry as long and as hard as she needed. He’d do better now, he promised himself he would. He’d do better for her. 


	14. In A Cage

**_ALEXANDRIA_ **

Daryl had carried Lydia home after Dante had said there was nothing left to do but let her heal. She had some good cuts on her face—a split lip, a nasty four inch cut sewn up above her right eyebrow, more stitches on her forehead. Her wrists were bruised and raw, more bruises up her arms over the scars. She had a good welt under her armpit from where Alfred had hauled her up and held her in place. Bruises patterning her stomach and back, several bruised ribs, a swollen ankle.

He cradled her close and she didn’t make a peep. Dante had given her some pain medication that had made her sleepy and she was out like a light. He got her up to her room, laying her carefully and covering her up.

He sat on her bed for a while before getting up with a heavy sigh. He had to speak with Negan. He believed Lydia when she said Negan had saved her, but he needed to hear it from him.

He gets up, leaving the house with hope neither child woke up. He headed to the prison and he sees people gathering. Alfred and Gage’s friends were whipping the crowd of angry and anxious Alexandrians up into a frenzy about taking out Negan. He heard talk of Rick not being here to save him again, that maybe if they had fought Rick on his decision seven years ago they wouldn’t even be in this mess. Daryl scoffs—if _Gage_ and _Alfred_ weren’t here they wouldn’t have been in this mess. Negan was only involved because they were going to kill that girl. If they hadn’t attacked Lydia, nothing would have happened. But he keeps his mouth closed, for now, and headed down to the cell where Negan was locked back in. After having some semblance of freedom, here he was locked in a cell again.

“How’s the kid doing?” Negan asks before he even sees Daryl. He knew it’d be him.

“She’s banged up good but she’s gon be alright…y’know people are out there talking ‘bout putting you down. Said maybe they shouldda done it a long time ago.”

Negan scoffs, not even slightly surprised. “If you came down here looking for some kind of confession, then keep walking. It was an accident. And for the record, screw her. She’s a goddamn asshole beating on a kid. The world’s better of without her, but you already know that don’t you?” He sit up, looking directly at Daryl. “You came down here to look me in the eye because you don’t know _what_ to do with me. Shit, all that time you spent fantasizing about my death, all those times you actually tried to kill me, and now look at you. Conflicted as shit.”

Daryl growls. “You listen to me, _real_ close. You and I have never been in a room before, not toe to toe. Ain’t nobody here to save you this time.”

“What do you want me to say, Daryl? Those people out there are like sharks looking for blood. _My_ blood.”

Daryl paces a little. “Why save Lydia? You ain’t no hero.”

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m a sucker. I started believing in your way of life, your moral code. You people gave me a little taste of freedom just to yank it away when I do the right thing and saved that kid. That’s pretty messed up, you’ve gotta admit.”

Daryl huffs, his next words coming out for Lydia’s sake. “You’ll be given your chance to tell your side.” As he’s heading up the stairs away from the cell he hears a chuckle and a “who’s the sucker now?”

He gets up, trudging towards home. He knew it’d be a few hours before they discussed what to do about Negan and he needed to check back on the kids. He find Carol sitting on the steps outside of his house. _Their_ house. He had barely seen her since she had been injured in the school gym, mostly hiding out in her room.

“How ya feeling?” He asks, lowering himself down beside her.

“Sore,” she grimaces. “I heard what happened to Lydia.” He figures the entirety of Alexandria had heard. He knew by tomorrow every community likely would.

“It’s a mess,” he sighs.

“Everyone’s talking about Negan again like time never moved. What do you think about this?”

“I don’t give a shit about him. I believe _her,_ though. Who knew?” He chuckles dryly.

Carol cringes. She wasn’t very fond of his parental relationship with the Whisperer girl. “This is a distraction,” she changes the subject. “Alexandria’s being attacked.”

“We don’t know that was them yet,” he says, remembering Lydia’s words at the meeting the other day.

“Alpha’s still out there regardless.”

“Enough bad shit happening in here. If we don’t fix this, won’t happen _what_ she does to us.”

Carol goes to retort but he gets up and walks away.

**_HILLTOP_ **

Yumiko, Magna, Luke, Kelly and Connie were still out defending the wall. They had been out there from midafternoon til nighttime. They were getting tired, starting to lag. Luke and especially Magna’s swings were becoming sloppier. Yumiko wasn’t as fast at nocking her arrows, her accuracy on point still at least. Kelly and Connie were struggling with their accuracy with their slingshots though.

A walker walks into Magna and she falls with a yelp, the walker on top of her. _“Magna!”_ Yumiko yells. She runs towards them, taking the walkers near them out while Magna gets a hit on the one on her. Yumiko hauls her up, pulling her back up with her.

They hear Alden’s shout from inside the wall. “Guys! We’ve got the brace up, get your asses back inside!”

“We’re coming!” Luke yells in relief.

“Let’s get out of here—Magna, come on!”

The walkers had nearly doubled, too many for the five of them especially with how tired they were growing.

“We have to protect the wall, Miko!” Magna argues.

“Not without help!” Kelly shouts, jumping off the log pile she was standing on, Connie follows suit.

“There’s no time,” Yumiko grabs Magna’s arm. “If we stay out here, we die.” She pulls Magna after her as the five run for the gate, getting in before the walkers could follow.

Then one of the other part of the wall, one that wasn’t noticeably affected by the tree, falls in with an earsplitting shriek. They watch in horror as dozens of walkers walk right into Hilltop.

“Guess we’re defending the wall anyways,” Yumiko says and Magna nods in silent agreeance. They move to the walkers quickly, Jesus and Maggie joining. Jerry and Dianne hurriedly gets others away from the walkers and inside of Barrington house and trailers.

A whinny sounds and horses come galloping in. Ezekiel and Michonne, both on horseback charge in, Michonne leaping off the horse before it’s even come to a halt. Eugene and Judith jump out of the wagon that follows. The katana wielding mother and daughter join in beside Yumiko and Magna.

Judith has a whole system down. Slash to the left to swipe the legs from under the walker, slash to the right in the chest, stab into the head. She took out several walkers, Yumiko and Michonne both with proud looks on their faces at the little girl.

The made quick work of the walkers with their growing group of soldiers. The wall, though. That was a whole other story.

**_ALEXANDRIA_ **

Daryl had sat down at the radio when the council had given a time to meet. He needed Michonne’s say on the matter, her being Alexandria’s official leader and all. He had been trying a while, near giving up when the radio crackles to life.

“Everything alright? Been trying to reach you for a while.”

_“Not great, but okay for now. What’s going on?”_

“Something happened. Lydia got jumped by Gage, Alfred and Margo. They corned her in the laundry area and attacked her. According to Negan, Margo was ‘bout to kill her. He pushed Margo off her before she could and she hit her head…she’s dead. Alfred claims Lydia lured them there and Negan was waiting, but that’s not something that kid would do. I know she wouldn’t. Anyways, not a scratch on Alfred or Gage and Margo’s only injury was the head wound that killed her. Negan isn’t injured either. Just Lydia. Her face is covered in cuts and bruises, bruises on her stomach, back and arms. Bruised ribs and sprained ankle. Negan claims Margo’s death was an accident. He’s on the right side of this one, that kid wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for him, but I’m not sure if that’ll make much a difference. There’s a mob gathered that wants his head.”

_“Should I come home?”_

“Nah, Hilltop needs ya.”

There’s a long pause. Then, _“How’s Lydia doing now?”_

“I told ya. Not good.”

  
_“Daryl, you need to make sure you protect her.”_

“Yeah, well, I’m trying.” _And failing,_ he thinks.

Her voice is serious when she speaks. _“No, you_ have _to protect her. For_ all _of us._ _When we went to the border we went there to reap the consequences of crossing into their land and to try to buy time for strategic advantage. And it was working until Carol shot at them. Alpha could have easily killed us all right there or at least declared full out war for retribution. Why didn’t she?”_

Daryl pauses with realization. “You think she won’t attack us is we got Lydia?”

_“Alpha told you to protect her. Look, Lydia’s presence might not help us, but if Alpha thinks she’s not safe with us, or if Lydia runs away because of what happened to her it_ will _hurt us. Lydia_ has _to stay in Alexandria.”_

“Alright, I’ll make sure. Not cause she’s some pawn or protection charm, but because that kid deserves better.”

_“Alright…how’s RJ?”_

“Great. He refuses to eat his vegetables so I’m a little worried for him,” he jokes. Michonne laughs. “Council’s meeting now.”

_“I want you to be my proxy when they vote. I know you’ll make the right choice.”_

“Alright. I should go. I’ll give RJ a hug for you.”

_“Thank you.”_

He turns the radio off and gets up, heading to where the meetings being held. He goes in quietly where Aaron, Gabriel, Laura, Rosita and Tara are seated. Neither Tara nor Rosita were a part of the council but they were sitting in. 

“I get why people might think Negan’s been redeemed,” Aaron says. “I’ve wondered it myself. Hell, maybe he _has_ changed. But a man like that, who’s done the things he’s done and killed the people he’s killed…there’s something inside of him that’s broken.”

Rosita huffs. “Killing him _now_ , especially after saving that kid, undermines the civilization we’ve built here.”

“What about the people who never got to see this ‘civilization,’ huh? Eric, Denise, Glenn, Abraham?”

Both Tara and Rosita flinch at the names of their former lovers, especially at them being used in an argument to kill someone, even if they had died because of that someone. “What the hell are you going on about?” Tara growls. “The _Whisperers_ are the enemy, not Negan, not Lydia.”

Gabriel puts a hand out. “Maybe we should—”

“No!” Tara shoves her chair back, pushing herself to her feet. “Look what’s happening right now at Hilltop— _my home!_ We are taking our eyes off f the real enemy and fighting among ourselves. It’s what they want!”

Gabriel sighs. “Look, the council wasn’t designed for this—”

“She’s not even a member of the council!” Aaron shouts. “You heard her, _Hilltop’s_ her home, not Alexandria!”

_“Regardless,”_ Gabriel says with a heavy sigh, “deciding on a man’s life in the middle of the night because people are carrying torches and pitchforks is not what we’re designed for. We can’t take this lightly.”

“Hey, look,” Daryl speaks up for the first time since entering. “If we can’t make a decision in here, those people out there _will_.”

“What did Michonne say?”

“She wants me to be her vote. Lydia said Negan saved her, so he saved her. I’m a no.”

Aaron sighs in frustration. “So we’re tied. Gabriel, what do you say?”

Gabriel sits back, looking at each and every one of them. “I’m going to take the night to clear my head. I think you should all do the same.”

Aaron grumbles, getting up in annoyance. He storms out, Laura following suit. Daryl waits for Tara and Rosita to walk over and he decides to walk them home, discussing what to do when there’s a revote. They would do what they had to do, no matter what.

**_HILLTOP_ **

The next morning Michonne was addressing the group who were finally refreshed after a good nap after fighting off dozens of walkers into the night. After Daryl had hung up, she had received an urgent call from Oceanside.

“I’d like to head out to Oceanside right away. Two wagons, some supplies.”

“Rachel’s sure it was them?” Maggie asks, arms folded across her chest.

“She sewars she saw one of them watching her, too damn close to where that mask washed up. Could be nothing, but we know they travel in packs.”

“Where there’s one, you can bet your life there’s a hundred more,” Eugene adds.

“Do you think they’re planning another attack?” Jesus asks. Maggie shifts beside him uneasily.

“The walker waves at Alexandria, the tree here and now sightings at Oceanside? First time, coincidence. Second time, maybe bad luck. But third time? We should check.”

Luke raises his hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to join you. I feel the ocean calling to me.”

Yumiko smirked. “And by the ocean do you mean…Jules?”

“Uh, what? No, um…never even heard of her. I mean, yes! Yes, I have. Heard of her, I mean. The very pretty tall woman with the…face…” The others laugh at him.

“Count me in, too,” Dianne offers faithfully with a smile.

“That means you need to lead a wagon home, Eugene.”

“Actually,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be staying put. Much like my amigo here, I feel an energy calling me to help my good neighbors by employing my expertise in architecture and engineering to plug the metaphorical gap to the metaphorical smile that is the Hilltop fortification.”

There was a long silence as they all stared at him, trying to process what he had said.

“You…want to fix the wall?” Michonne asks tentatively.

“Yes. That’s what I said.” Judith giggles at the look on his face, as if Michonne’s question was ridiculous.

“Okay, we’ll send for supplies so you can build it faster.”

He nods. “The only caveat is that I cannot escort you back to Alexandria, little miss,” he says to Judith.

“Judith? She’s coming to Oceanside with me.”

“I am?” Judith brightens up.

“Well, yeah! Who else is going to be my pair of friendly ears?” Judith pops up excitedly and runs over to her mother, hugging her tightly.

Yumiko smiles at them before gazing up to see Magna perched on the top step. She climbed up the steps and sat beside her. “Hey, what’s wrong? We did it. We got everyone out—”

“We could have taken those walkers,” Magna says, nearly monotone.

“We had a split second decision to make—”

“ _You_ made it.”

“Look, when shit hits the fan someone has to step up. If anyone says anything, I listen and weight it up to decide the best action for everyone.”

“You do what _you_ want.”

“Mag, where is this coming from?” Yumiko frowns in concern.

“You’re not my lawyer anymore.” She tries to get up but Yumiko grabs her wrist, halting her.

“No, I’m not. I’m your _girlfriend_. Even if it makes you angry, my priority is to keep you and the others safe because you are _so_ important to me, Magna. I love you.”

Magna sighs, feeling a bit bad for fighting her. She rests her forehead against Yumiko’s. “I love you, too.”

**_ALEXANDRIA_ **

Gabriel had gone down to speak to Negan first thing in the morning. He needed to hear his side himself before casting his likely tiebreaking vote. But when he reached the cell, he saw it was empty.

He rushed to get to Daryl’s, stomping up the steps and banging on his door. He needed Daryl’s search. He had wondered if Lydia had done it briefly, but he also knew the girl would likely be too injured to stealthily sneak out past Daryl and the guards to free her savior.

Daryl swung the door open, looking like he was just woken up. “What?”

“He’s gone. Negan, he’s gone.”

“What do ya mean he’s gone?” He snaps.

“Guard says the keys are missing. No idea how or who.”

“Who was on watch at the gate last night?”

“Laura. Says she didn’t hear or see anything. I believe her—she voted yes and wouldn’t let him escape willingly.”

Daryl runs a hand through his hair, groaning. This was not good, not at all. He turns when the door creaks open and Lydia limps out, blinking harshly against the sun. She limps down the steps one by one, clutching her side in pain. Her hair fell in her face, hiding the worst of the cuts and bruises. Daryl moved to help her but she brushed him off, her clingy mood gone.

“I did it,” she croaks out. She must have been listening to them. “I let Negan go.”

Daryl looks at her in shell shock as she limps away. He looks at Gabriel, fervently shaking his head that she definitely _hadn’t_ set him free. He follows after her, all the way to the cell where she had locked herself in. He shakes his head when he finds the cell shut, her curled up on the cot.

He swings the cell open. “Come on, let’s go home. You didn’t do this.”

“I did,” she whispers.

“I kept watch all night long. I checked on you every few hours. You never left your room.”

“Does it matter?” She pushes herself upright, groaning quietly in pain and it tugs his hearts. “This is where they want me.”

“Don’t matter what they want.”

Lydia’s eyes tear up and she wipes a stray tear. “You know, for a long time I blamed myself for what happened last year. I kept thinking, what if I just stayed in that cell at Hilltop? Never let myself get taken alive by you people in the first place, never ran off with Henry, never said what I said to my mother.”

“You aren’t to blame for her.” The girl was nothing like her villainous mother. Alpha had a black heart, cruel and malicious, while Lydia had a heart of gold. The child struggled, but she wanted no ill will to others and tried her best to be accepted.

“My mother was right. She said you people put on these polite faces, but it’s just a mask. When things get bad, or when people get scared, they pick a target, aim and shoot. Me, Negan.”

“Negan’s different. You didn’t know what kind of a man he was back then.”

“The Negan _I_ know stood up for me when he didn’t have to. He saved my _life_. I tried fitting in because I wanted to be like _you_. But I never will.”

“You don’t belong in a cage.” He swallows.

“It’s better here. Safer. Nobody can hurt me in here.”

He looks up, willing for the tears that filled his eyes not to fall. That hit him so hard, hurt him _so_ badly. The fact that this child would rather lock herself away in a cell than recover from her injuries in her own bed because she was terrified of getting hurt or worse killed him. He closes the door gently despite his urge to scoop her up and carry her to her empty bed and walks away.

He fills a bucket of hot, soapy water and starts scrubbing the “silence the whispers” on their door. That had started it, the downfall of that child’s confidence and sense of belonging. He scrubbed and scrubbed until the paint was finally gone, that way if Lydia came home maybe she’d feel safer.

Not if, _when_. When she came home.


	15. The Life of Tara Chambler

Daryl had tried the entire next day to coax Lydia out of the cage she locked herself in but the child didn’t budge. He had stayed back to watch over the cell while others went out searching for Negan. If Aaron and his group was unsuccessful he said he’d make a sweep all the way to Hilltop the following day, but his focus was the child.

He went down into the cell, his heart wrenching seeing her curled up on the cot. He had made her get up the night before to strip the dirty sheets and replace them with her own. Her own blanket and pillow, put some folded clothes on the makeshift dresser, brought her the book she had been trying to read.

This time he was coming down with lunch. Seeing her breakfast untouched minus the empty glass of juice wasn’t very optimistic. “You gotta eat.”

He gets no response from her, no acknowledgement. He sighs, taking the breakfast out of the cell and placing it on the steps before reentering. He sits on the cot beside her, nudging her. “Hey.” She grumbles, turning away from him. “Lydia. If you don’t eat, I’ll drag your ass out of this cell and all the way to the infirmary. Let Dante watch over ya there and make you if he has to.”

She glowers at him but pushes herself upright. She leans back against the wall, grimacing at the pain. He scoots back beside her, looking her over. Her face was looking worse, dark scabs beginning to form on her split lip, eyebrow and forehead. Purpling bruises covering half her face that looked deeper in the ill light. He could see the red on her wrists still there, bright contrast to her pale skin. If he had lifted her shirt he knew he’d see deep bruises blossoming across her stomach and sides where her ribs were badly bruised. He offers her the slices of freshly baked bread and she took it.

She barely took more than a nibble, but that was better than nothing. Her empty stomach needed _something_ in it. After he’s satisfied she’s got at least _some_ substance, he gives her a hardboiled egg and she grimaces but takes a tentative bite. She eats more of the egg than she did the bread and he’s confident she won’t starve, not _today_ at least. She takes the glass of juice happily enough, though.

“You ready to come home?” He asks, knowing her answer.

She shakes her head, not meeting his eyes. He reaches out and strokes her hair back gently with a sigh. He wanted to just scoop her up and hug her tightly, to carry her away. But he wouldn’t, at least not _this_ time.

He put down a line of water bottles to keep her hydrated before he got up, walking away. He looked back before leaving.

“Dog!” He calls and the mutt trots over to him. He shoos the dog down into the cell and he listens to his nails clicking on the floor, the thump of him leaping up on the cot, and he hears a breathy laugh come from the girl down there.

He left with a bit more peace than he had last time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Dante tells Tara when she shows up that afternoon with a frown and folded arms.

“Rosita wants me to.”

“Smart lady.”

Tara rolls her eyes, sitting back. “You _aren’t_ drugging me.”

“Could help. But alright,” he shrugs. He sits across from her and she just glowers at him. “I was a medic in the army. After my service was finished, well I escaped from any trauma but I had many fellow soldiers who struggled with PTSD and before the shit hit the fan, I had became a therapist to work with victims like my buddies. So in this world, you won’t find anyone better than me to help you.”

Tara shrugs. “I’m only here because of Ro.”

“For this to work, you need to actually want it to. It’s not like an injury, it’s in your head. And if you aren’t all in, it _won’t_ work.” She sighs. “You _do_ want to get better, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then work with me, woman.” She scoffs but doesn’t say anything else. “We have options. Medication which you have vetoed, talking about what happened and discussing what treatment plan we have the ability to do. Hypnotherapy. Just throw you to the wolves and face it head on to see what happens.” She shrugs. “Okay. No medication, you’re clearly not a talker, and I fear for my life if I throw you to the wolves,” he jokes. When her face doesn’t change, he sighs. “Alright, I have my idea.”

“And what’s that?”

“Follow me.” He gets up and walks away and she trudges after him. They leave the infirmary, up into the office above it. Down the hall from…

She shakes her head, willing herself not to think of Denise. The room down that hall, behind that white door where they lived. Where they had Denise’s blue plaid comforter that reminded her of her brother, where Tara’s favorite black sweater with the white laces once hung up which was last seen on Denise’s body, where Denise’s stethoscope was on the desk beside Tara’s gun. Two separate worlds combined. The doctor and the soldier.

She shudders at the memories and follows Dante into the office. Denise was a therapist too, studied in psychology after she strayed from being a surgeon when she was plagued by panic attacks from her overwhelming anxiety. She used this room for her patients who needed mental help over physical. Her mental health patients made her happier than her patients that needed to be patched up or god forbid surgery. The couch was different—the one Denise had was taken by Negan in the days he reigned—but it’s in the same spot. Her heart aches. She hadn’t been in this room since her death, she rarely went in here before, but she had went in there often enough.

She loved Rosita with her entire being, she was the love of her life. She wasn’t sure if she believed in soulmates, but if she did she knew Rosita was _hers_. But that didn’t make her love Denise less, miss her less. She had pushed those feelings down, and as much as it hurt she had nearly forgotten about her life back then. But being in this room made it resurface. She wasn’t hurting beyond belief, she had been able to grieve her. To sit cross-legged by her grave while Rosita and Daryl, the last people to see her alive, came over with profuse apologies and guilt ridden speeches. She had healed, she had moved forward but she knew it’d always hurt.

“Have a seat,” he says, pulling a chair to sit across from the couch. Tara sits on the couch begrudgingly. She stares at him, eyes hardened and guard up. Telling Rosita or Maggie and Jesus was one thing—and it was hard enough. But telling a stranger, a doctor who had come so recently, _months_ after the pikes and all he knew was what he heard? She couldn’t, she _wouldn’t_. Rosita was at a loss, unsure how else to help her. Tara wanted to do this, to get help for Rosita’s sake, but she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to.

Dante shifted at the tense silence. Then he sighs loudly. “This isn’t working for you.”

“No shit.”

“How about a new plan?” She shrugs. “You go about your day, and I’ll shadow you. And you can tell me whatever you want, whether it’s something weighing you down or just some small talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with for now. And when you’re comfortable with me, _then_ we can reassess our therapy plan. Okay?”

“Fine,” she agrees reluctantly.

“So. Show me how your day goes.” He gets up, gesturing to the door and she eyes him before walking out, him on her trail.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“Don’t you have other patients to see?” Tara asks later than afternoon.

She was in her house, rocking Coco back and forth. Rosita was out scouting for Negan with Aaron and Tara had decided to relieve Barbara from Coco duty. She had walked around, stopped at her favorite shops through the community, stopped to say her hellos, brushed her horse, and Dante had shadowed her the entire time. She barely spoke to him and didn’t say one thing of importance. He didn’t try to pry, he was letting her take her time.

“If anything happens someone will find me,” he says with a shrug, goofy smile permanent on his face.

She sighs. “Alright.” She wanders to the kitchen to get Coco a bottle. She warms up the bottle and does the wrist test before sitting at the table. She rearranges Coco in her arms and offers her the bottle, which the baby happily accepts.

Dante hovers. “So, it’s lunch time. I can make something?”

“If you must.” Tara wanted to rid herself of the hovering shrink but she couldn’t seem to try. He probably wouldn’t unless an emergency popped up or he was satisfied with some progress. So she decided to give him _something_. “I’ve been here for nine years now, y’know. Well, in the communities.”

“Have you?” He looks at her to show he was paying attention to her while he was cooking them lunch.

“When the shit hit the fan,” she pauses, remembering that was the exact wording she had used to the Governor, the wording that got her scolded by her older sister, “it was me, my dad, my sister and my little niece. We holed up in our apartment for nearly two years. My dad had cancer and was struggling, my sister Lilly was kind of a control freak so imagine her in the apocalypse,” she chuckles. “And Meghan…she was so good. She was just eight. We’d play chess and get creative with the cans of spaghetti rings that my dad had brought home in his food truck. Chess was her favorite thing.”

She pauses, eyes filling with tears. It had been so long since she had thought of Lilly and Meghan. Of her dad. “We met a man, first human we encountered for near two years. He said his name was Brian. He got my dad some more oxygen and Lilly bonded with him. He saved me from my dad when he…I didn’t know _everyone_ turned to Walkers. Just people who were bitten. He left that night, and we followed. We followed blindly like _idiots_. We were on the road a few days until we ran into a small horde and ended up with Brian’s old group. We didn’t know what kind of man he was, never saw it coming.”

“Saw what coming?” He asks gently after she’s quiet too long.

“There was another group he had a skirmish with at a prison. He claimed they were bad people. But they _weren’t_. _He_ was. He told Lilly and Meg to stay behind at the camp and we went to war. I was the first to volunteer. I…I was the _first_. When we got there, he lost his mind. He chopped off an old mans head with a sword. I knew it was bad, never fired a shot. I tried to talk my girlfriend into leaving but she believed every word he said. So I ran and hid. And from my spot, I saw my sister there. She wasn’t supposed to be there, she was supposed to be with Meghan. If she was there, it meant Meghan…she killed Brian—the Governor, and the Walkers who came to the sound of the gunshots swarmed her and there were _too_ many. When I found my girlfriend, she was dead too. I locked myself in some type of weapons cage. I had my gun, and there were so many Walkers. I don’t think I even thought of trying to fight my way out. I do remember considering to take myself out. I didn’t want to live anymore.”

“But you’re here now.”

She smiles sadly. “Glenn found me.”

“Who’s Glenn?”

“He was my best friend. He saved me, helped me fight my way out. And asked my to find his missing wife, they got separated in the war. I was the enemy. I never fired a shot, but he didn’t know that. And he gave me a reason to live. And then Rosita, Abraham and Eugene ran into us. And they helped us. Rosita cared about my well being back then when I was just a stranger, and she never stopped. And it was a miracle, but we found Glenn’s wife. _Maggie_.”

“Maggie from Hilltop?”

“That’s the one.” She decides to skip over Terminus, she barely remembers it and didn’t fully understand it either. “We found their old group, the survivors of it anyways. Rick, he was the leader before he died…he was Judith’s father. Carl, Judith’s big brother. Judith who was just a little baby. Michonne, Daryl, Carol. Sasha and her brother. Along the way we picked up Noah, he was another one of my best friends. And we went through a lot together on the road. No food or water and in a draught. We weren’t in good shape. And then Aaron found us and brought us _here_.”

“And you’ve been here ever since?”

“Pretty much. Glenn, Noah and I were scavengers, went out and found stuff. I got blasted by a grenade once.”

“Wait—seriously?”

She laughs. “Yeah. I got thrown into a shelf or something in a huge storage area. Lost a lot of blood, I was in a coma for over a week. Rosita rarely left my bedside I was told. Glenn and Maggie spent nearly as much time. But I woke up. And then I met Denise.”

“Who’s that?”

“She was the doctor. A few doctors ago. I loved her. I met her in the infirmary. The office we were in? That was _her_ office. The bedroom across the hall was _our_ bedroom. I left to go on a mission, and the last thing I told her was that I loved her to cover up my guilt for what we were doing. She said she’d tell me it back when I came home. I ended up at Oceanside, they tried to kill me and hated outsiders at the time, but that's an entirely other story that'll take a whole day. But the whole time, I kept my head up knowing when I got home, I'd see Denise and I could tell her how much I loved her with nothing but honesty and she would tell me. But when I came home, she was _dead_. So was Abraham…and _Glenn._ They were _good,_ and they died for nothing. One of Negan’s men shot her in the head with an arrow. He said he wasn’t aiming for her but it doesn’t matter because she’s dead. And Abraham and Glenn…their heads were bashed in by Negan himself. Glenn was killed in front of Maggie, who was pregnant at the time. Abraham in front of Rosita. I had a lot of guilt for a long time, that if I was there maybe they wouldn’t have died. Maybe I would have died instead of Glenn, instead of Denise.”

“Oh, Tara…”

“I was lost, for a while. Not really _lost_ , but I lost who I was. I wanted revenge, I wanted to hurt people. And that’s not who I was. Jesus and I were at odds back then. Maybe it was because he was best friend material and losing Glenn was so raw still. Maybe it was because I genuinely just saw red and he was a calming influence. But he broke down my walls, little by little and he put me back together. And then Carl died, and then Rick. And Michonne locked Alexandra’s walls. Hilltop was hit with a sickness and Michonne refused to give much aid, so when Jesus came to get what little bit she would give, I stole medical supplies and left with him and didn’t look back.”

“Well, you kind of did. You’re here now.”

“Six years later, I’m here. I left a year after Michonne cut us off from The Kingdom, Hilltop and Oceanside. Lived with Maggie and Jesus, helped Maggie raise Hershel. Until two years ago, Maggie just left. Said she couldn’t deal with this anymore.”

“But wasn’t she here with you a week ago?”

“She was. She left, and Jesus was in charge. Jesus got attacked by the Whisperers and then I…after the pikes Maggie came back. And now here we are.”

“Then you what?”

She shuts down, right there in front of him. He decides the pot of boiling pasta will be fine for a moment and puts a hand on her shoulder. Despite not having great boundaries, he wasn’t a very a touchy feely person. He wasn’t someone who emotionally connected to people, wasn’t someone who _wanted_ to. But there was something about Tara that made him want to.

“Hey, I’m sorry. You weren’t comfortable and I pushed it.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not ready to…not ready to talk about that. Not yet.”

Dante smiles sadly, nodding. There was a twinge in his chest. This girl was _good_. _Too_ good. “We got all the time in the world.”

He turns back and finishes the pasta, straining it and mixing the tomato sauce in. This place having a pasta maker and growing their own herbs and vegetables was definitely a dream come true in the apocalypse. He serves two plates and sits down next to her.

“I’m just going to put Coco down,” she informs him. She brings Coco into the living room and gently places her in a bassinet, careful not to wake her. She returns and sits back down. She takes a bite.

“So? How did I do?” He raises his eyebrows with a smirk.

“It’s good, really good.”

“Is it really? Or are you just trying to make me feel good about myself?”

She laughs, a genuine laugh that was music to his ears. “It’s really is good, promise. Try it yourself.”

He takes a bit of his food and nods. “Mm. I definitely did better than usual. I outdid myself with my cooking skills just for you, my dear.”

“Why thank you,” she laughs.

“Also, if you can scrounge up some fruit, I make a mean pie. Just saying.”

“Are you offering to bake us _a pie_ if I get you some fruit?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “I haven’t made a pie since, well all this shit. But I used to be good.”

“Well, you have your pick. We have apples, strawberries and it sounds weird but Carol can make an amazing carrot pie without it tasting so… _carrot_.”

“You any good at pie baking?”

She smiles proudly. “Yes I am.”

“How about a challenge. Let’s see who can make the best pie. If you got enough apples we could see who can make the best pie.”

Tara raises her eyebrow. “Are you challenging me to a bake-off?”

“Do you have anything better to do?”

“Not really.”

He chuckles. “Then yes, I’m challenging you to a bake-off.”

Her competitive side, a side of her that had laid dormant for so long, rose from the ashes. She nods, a serious look on her face. They push their finished plates aside and get up, facing each other. She holds her hand out professionally. “Challenge accepted.” They shake each other hand firmly, both trying to conceal the giddy smiles threatening to break through.

“May the best baker win.”

“And when Ro comes home, she’ll be the taste tester. Though we won’t tell her who’s who cause she’s definitely biased towards me.”

“Ah, yes. Sounds like an excellent plan. Let’s do this.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

When Rosita arrived home, the first thing that hit her was the strong aroma of pie. She has a look of confusion at why her house smelt like Thanksgiving pre apocalypse. Then she hears Tara’s laugh and her confusion is gone and she smiles. She had fought with Tara about seeing Dante while she was out searching for Negan with Aaron and Gabriel and expected to come home to find her in a sour mood after a therapy session she didn’t want, but instead she was in the kitchen apparently baking and laughing.

She went into the kitchen and paused with a questioning smile. Tara’s in the kitchen, but so is Dante, with Coco in his arms. “Hey?”

“Oh, Ro! You’re back. Finally.”

“Finally?” She chuckles.

“We made pie.”

“I smelt that when I came inside. Is there some kind of special occasion?”

“No. Dante challenged me to a bake-off and I couldn’t say _no_. We need you to be the taste tester, we can’t tell you who’s is who’s though.”

“Taste tester? I’m in,” she laughs. “Apple?”

“Yep,” Dante says, the p popping. He offers the cooing baby back to Tara who takes her happily.

Rosita takes a bite of each apple slice, a deep thoughtful look on her face as she takes a second bite. “I like _this_ one best.”

“Yes!” Tara cheers while Dante throws his head back in defeat.

“You didn’t know that was hers?”

“No!” Rosita laughs. “Not like she bakes all the time so I’d know. I didn’t even know you were much of a baker.”

“I haven’t since the world went to shit. I’m as shocked as you are, believe me. Guess it’s like riding a bike or some shit, it just came right back to me.”

“Mm. Well I hope you know there’s no more hiding this hidden talent. “

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She cuts herself a piece of pie while balancing Coco, sitting next to Rosita.

“Did you two have a good talk?” Rosita asks tentatively.

“We went off books,” Dante informs her. “I shadowed her today, watched her day, some chit chat. And then I got the entire _Life of Tara Chambler_ minus the pikes. But we’ll discuss that when she’s ready.”

“The entire _Life of Tara Chambler?”_ Rosita asks curiously.

“Yup. Lilly and Meghan, Governor, war, Glenn, _you_ , finding Maggie, finding this place, Negan, Oceanside, Denise and Glenn and Abraham’s death, leaving to Hilltop with some Jesus dude, Maggie leaving, Maggie coming home, and back to present day.”

“Wow. Okay. Yeah, _Life of Tara Chambler_ is accurate,” Rosita laughs. “You were chatty today.”

“He opened the dams and I couldn’t close it. Until I got to the pikes.”

“It took you weeks to tell me about it, took _months_ to tell Maggie and longer to tell Jesus. You don’t need to force yourself to talk about it right away. Just try to be open to do so when you’re ready.”

“I am open to it. And I will talk when I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s all I ever wanted,” she presses a kiss to her forehead and Dante watches with a small smile.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl was getting ready to go out looking. He wanted to leave in the evening, see if he could find him in the dark. He knew while it was more dangerous, that Negan would likely hole up in the daylight and move by night because he would expect them not to search at night. Tara had offered to join him in his search and he took her up on that.

He made his way to the cell to check up on Lydia before leaving. He was bringing some pasta Tara had given him for her, figuring despite delivering her dinner early she’d likely eat it over someone else bringing her food. And if he was being honest, with both him and Tara gone and Rosita busy with RJ and Coco, he wasn’t sure Lydia would be delivered dinner by anyone else besides _maybe_ Laura. And if they surprised him and _did_ feed her, she wouldn’t trust them enough to eat it. 

“Hey, kid.” He finds her on the cot, the book he brought to her open beside her though her attention was on Dog who was still sprawled out beside her. The mutt’s head was on her lap and she was scratching behind his ears.

She looks up at him. He puts the food down next to her on the cot. “I’m gon be going out searching with Tara overnight.”

“For Negan?” She asks in a small voice.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“What’s going to happen if you find him?”

“We’ll bring him back, unharmed if we’re able to. Do a revote. Might not go in his favor since he escaped, though we know he didn’t get out on his own. Someone let him out, someone who _wasn’t_ you. If he tells us who, and he cooperates, it might help him. I’ll push to let it go back to normal, Tara and Rosita will back me I’m sure. Even though they ain’t on the council others listen to them. Gabriel may be swayed. I’ll push for him to do some jail time, let him re-earn our trust and build back freedom after a few weeks. Cause I believe that it was an accident, so does Gabriel and Tara and Ro. Hell, even if it _wasn’t_ an accident, he did it so save _you_ so it don’t matter to me if it was an accident or not. World’s better off without a bitch who thinks hurting kids is okay.”

She bites her lip and nods. He reaches a hand out tentatively, half expecting her to pull away with her clingy mood gone. But she doesn’t and he cups the back of her head and presses a rare kiss to the top of her head. “I want you safe while you’re here. I want you to go home, or for this cell to be locked and give Rosita the key. I don’t think anyone will hurt ya but if something happens, I won’t be here to do anything.”

“You can lock the cell,” she says and his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Anything happens, you yell. Ask for Rosita. Rosita is on our side, she will help you. She’ll keep you safe best she can. And if you want out at any time, you ain’t a prisoner. You can leave if you decide to. Whenever you choose to.”

She nods but it isn’t promising. She’s just nodding to tell him she heard him but has no intention of leaving the safety of brick walls and iron locks. “Take Dog with you.”

“You don’t want him to keep ya company.”

“I _do._ But you need him more. He’ll be better help in finding Negan. And if anyone finds him, I want it to be you. Most others will just kill him and he doesn’t deserve to die, not for saving _me_.”

“Alright.” He pats his thigh and the sleepy dog slides off the cot, trotting over to him. “Remember, anything happens…”

“Call for Rosita. I got it.”

“Be safe,” he says before closing the cell. He doesn’t want to lock her in, but he does. If she refuses to leave, she’s safest where nobody can get in.

“You, too,” she says as he disappears up the stairs to deliver the key to Rosita.

He casts a look down the stairs once more before walking to Rosita and Tara’s, wishing it could all be over soon. That he’d find Negan and bring him back, so he could lock _him_ up and take that kid home where she belonged.


	16. Search Parties

Yumiko was clearing the handful of Walkers that appeared at the hole in the wall. They were small waves, nothing more than she alone could handle, heading to where the wall had fallen every few hours. It was _annoying_.

She wiped off her knife before sheathing it, heading back in through the gaping hole. She wandered over to the tree that had half a dozen people working on it, where she heard Eugene going on and on about something. From the looks on Alden and Earl’s faces, it was either something they didn’t like or they just didn’t understand the over articulate man. When they saw her approaching, Eugene turns to her, “I am happy to repeat.” Yumiko was in charge of the building aspect. With all the communities riled up from the Whisperers reappearance, Maggie and Jesus had too much on their plate to deal with the broken wall.

“No, I’m just checking in. All good over here?”

Alden huffs quietly, folding his arms. “Eugene’s come up with a zero waste plan. He claims he can use _every_ cubic inch of the tree, including the _bark_.”

If Eugene picked up on the tension in Alden’s voice, he doesn’t show it. “Now seems as good a time as any to master the art of basket weaving.”

Yumiko looks between the two men before nodding, “sounds good.” She backs away and leaves to let them work out whatever is going on but Alden follows.

“Before you head off,” Alden’s voice stops her. She turns to see him, Earl behind him. “Earl and I’ve been talking. We think instead of using all of the extra wood for the addition, we should use it to make weapons. Good ones like spears and arrows, defensive ones. Maybe even some catapults for the North wall in case of another attack.”

Yumiko sighs. “Look, I think that it’d be a good idea, honestly. Just not right _now_. Not with most of the Kingdom still in tents and camping in the lobby and offices in the house.”

Alden scratches his head, expecting that answer but not thrilled with it either. But he knew better than to fight with her. He trusted Maggie’s judgment, and since Maggie put Yumiko in charge of the wall and addition building, he knew he should trust her too. “Okay, yeah. I get it.”

Earl on the other hand was never a fan of Maggie. Jesus, he trusted. Tara he liked even _more_. But he still had animosity towards Maggie and he certainly didn’t trust Yumiko—she had barely been at Hilltop a year, and he wasn’t too keen on answering to her, not even with Jesus and Tara both trusting her. “So the Whisperer’s smashed a giant hole in our wall—”

“We don’t know it was them,” Yumiko retorts.

“Now they’re throwing walkers at us every couple of hours and we’re just going to sit here, twiddling our thumbs?”

She groans. She was _so_ tired of this conversation, so tired of _this man_ undermining her every word. She got that he had been here a long time, but he was so judgmental and gave nobody a chance. She almost wished that Tara would come home—with Jesus so busy with the Whisperers, she could use Tara because she was the only other leader Earl seemed to respect. 

Before she could retort in her frustration, Kal came running over. He has an apologetic look for interrupting but she welcomed it. “Sorry to interrupt, but it happened in the cellar _again_.”

She was no longer happy for the interruption— _this_ was more frustrating than Earl’s constant complaining. She groans. “Who was on watch?”

He hesitates and she knows the answer before he says it. “Magna.”

****

Yumiko was trying to decide what to say to her girlfriend the entire walk into Barrington house. She followed the music up the stairs, ready to ask Jesus where Magna was, but it was Magna in Jesus’ spot listening to his records, nose in a book. She clears her throat but she gets no reaction, so she turns the record off.

“Magna.” When she still gets no response, she decides to just continue talking. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but someone stole _another_ crate of fish from the cellar, third time this week. Kal said you were on watch at the cellar last night.”

Magna shrugs carelessly. “Walkers showed up at the hole, they needed help.”

Yumiko draws a deep breath in through her nose. She goes to leave, taking two steps before turning on her heel to face her again. “You know how strained everything is right now. It’d be really helpful if we all stuck to the jobs we were given.”

Magna makes a sound and nods before turning the record back on. Yumiko shakes her head, at a loss. She turns back around and walks away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The sound of the approaching motorcycle was heard and the gates creak open in time for a dog to shoot in like a bullet, Daryl’s bike following. Behind them Tara canters in on her chestnut mare. The bike’s roar dies down as Daryl parks it, hopping off.

Connie waves to him from her spot serving the hungry workers and he waves back, signing _“talk later?”_ She smiles and nods, surprised at how well his signing was coming along.

“No sign of Negan?” Comes Jesus’ voice. He pats Daryl’s arm before grabbing Tara in a crushing hug.

“Nah. Searched all day and night,” Daryl comments.

Jesus lets Tara go but keeps an arm around her shoulders. “I just keep thinking about all he took from us, what we never took him from him.”

Daryl scratches the back of his neck with a strange look on his face Jesus couldn’t place. “Yeah. He may be an asshole, but Lydia would be dead if not for him.”

“That’s true,” Tara agrees, head resting on Jesus’ shoulder. “He saved her, doesn’t make up for what he’s done but she’s a good kid. So he was on the right side for once.”

Jesus nods, “least he’s done something right. Heard a bit about that kid, I look forward to finally put a face to her name.”

“If you ever find yourself in Alexandria, I’d be happy to introduce ya. With Alpha back, can’t risk bringing her out of the walls. Ain’t safe for her.”

“Gotta keep the children safe,” he nods in understanding. “I’ll let you go do whatever you gotta do. I’m gonna steal this one for a bit.”

“You can keep her,” he jokes and Tara glares at him with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Ass.”

“Come on, T,” he leads her away, arm still slung over her shoulders.

Daryl watches them leave before looking around. He didn’t have a plan in mind when they stopped here outside of letting Tara’s horse rest and getting rest themselves before returning back to Alexandria.

Before he can wander off, the gates open behind him and what appears to be a hunting party walk in. What gets his attention isn’t the hunters, but Connie jogging over to them.

_“Kelly?”_ Connie writes on her notepad, holding it up to Marco.

“She’s not here?” He asks. She taps her pad again. “She was tracking a boar, said she’s meet us back here. She should have beaten us back.”

Connie looks around, her features distressed. Her eyes settle on Daryl, her eyes pleading with him. He calls Dog over to him and he heads over to her.

****

Much to Connie’s dismay, they said they were unable to spare anyone to search for Kelly. So it was just Connie, Daryl, and Magna. Connie wanted them to stick together but Magna had walked off on her own, stating she was fine alone and that they needed to spread out. Daryl didn’t like it, but he and Connie went off in a different direction regardless.

Connie looks distressed the entire time, Daryl watching her with a concerned look.

“S’not your fault,” it’s the first thing he’s said in an hour.

Connie shakes her head at him, guilt written on her features. _“I should’ve gone with her.”_ She stalks off but Daryl gently takes her arm, halting her.

He speaks, attempting to sign but mostly just making exaggerated hand motions. _“Did I ever tell ya ‘bout my brother, Merle?”_ Connie gives him a confused look and he motions for the notepad which she hands over. He writes down **_Merle_**. She shakes her head but smiles, an invitation for him to continue. Whether she was genuinely curious or just looking for a distraction he didn’t know, but he continued on either way.

_“This one time, he takes me fishing,”_ he tosses a fake line, and pretends to reel it in, _“on this big lake. Which is… **private property**.”_ He writes the last part on the pad. _“In this boat, which is **stolen.** ”_

Connie smiles and laughs a little at the _stolen_ part.

_“And he’s drinking. He’s fishing and he’s drinking,”_ he continues with the hand gestures. _“And he falls into the lake! I had to jump in and take him like this,”_ he takes her arm, putting it over his shoulder and imitates swimming. _“I swam with him all the way back. I save his life. You know what he says to me?”_ She shakes her head, absorbed in the story. He writes on the pad, **_“Dummy, go get the beer.”_**

Connie laughs. “Idiot, right?” She nods, her face lit up and the distress gone, if only for a moment. She reaches out and takes his hand and he freezes, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

Dog barks, interrupting their small moment of bliss. He gestures for her and they run towards the barking. “Good Dog.”

Dog is standing beside a devoured boar, possibly the very boar Kelly was tracking. Daryl hears a twig snap behind him and he swings around, crossbow ready to fire. He lowers the weapon, seeing it’s only Magna. He shakes his head at her for sneaking up behind him.

Connie signs to her, a questioning look on her face. When Magna shakes her head, her face falls once more.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“When are you coming back home?” Jesus asks, perching on the edge of the desk. Tara looks up from her cross-legged position on the chair.

“I don’t know.”

“Stay.”

“I _can’t,_ ” she sighs. “I need to be in Alexandria.”

“Why? They have the biggest defense out of the communities. Why do they need _you?_ This is your home…is it not?”

“It _is_. But _I_ need Alexandria, not the other way around.”

“What does Alexandria have to offer that we can’t.”

“They have Dante.”

“Who the hell is Dante?”

“The doctor. He was in the army, and before the shit hit the fan he was a doctor specifically specialized in PTSD treatment.” His expression softens at that. “He’s been helping me, well _trying_ to. I don’t know, maybe I am just broken.”

“Hey, hey. You are _not_ broken. Just beaten up a bit, on a road to recovery. And you will get there.”

“Some assholes who thought beating up and terrorizing Lydia was a good idea painted _‘silence the whisperers’_ all over Alexandria. I was walking down the steps of Ro’s old place and I had a panic attack or something walking down the steps.”

Jesus grimaces. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“Just some scrapes and bruises.”

“Okay, come here,” he opened his arms to her and she pushes herself up. She lets him wrap his arms around her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head lovingly. “You know I miss you very much, right?”

“Not as much as I miss you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I’d stay if I could, I really would. But I need his help.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I know.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl, Connie and Magna moved together, mostly following the dog than anything. Daryl was an excellent tracker, but he trusted the dog over his own skills.

The dog’s insistent barking got Magna and Daryl’s attention and the rushed forward. They saw a figure leaning against a tree, their back to them. Connie stumbles before running towards her. Magna ran behind her, both terrified of what they’d find.

Connie drops down beside Kelly’s limp body, feeling for a pulse before shaking her. Magna kneels on her other side.

Kelly wakes, startled. She yelps, nearly convulsing in fear and confusion. Connie wraps her arms around her in a comforting way, Magna getting her attention. “Easy, it’s just us, Kel.”

_“It’s me, it’s Connie,”_ Connie signs, holding onto her tightly.

“Are you okay?” Magna asks gently. Connie strokes her head soothingly.

_“I couldn’t hear before, but I’m fine now,”_ she signs weakly, wo words coming from her mouth. She wasn’t convincing anyone. But Connie hugs her again and Magna rubs her arm in some relief. Magna looks up, eyes meeting Daryl’s who’s watching them in silent relief, a hint of a smile at them.

“Drink it slowly,” Magna says soothingly, putting her canteen to her lips. Kelly gulps at it anyways and almost immediately throws it up, her stomach in shock. Connie rubbed her back, concern written over her features.

“We have to get her back home.”

“Nah, we gotta find somewhere closer,” Daryl says.

Kelly sighs, nudging Magna. _“Gotta tell them.”_

Magna shakes her head, signing something so quickly that Daryl misses it. Not that the likelihood of him fully understanding it if she signed facing him slowly was high, though. “Tell ‘em what?”

Magna gives a stony look but helps Kelly up. The four move in silence, going deeper into the woods instead of further but Daryl doesn’t say anything— _yet_. They travelled for several minutes before finding a cart that was covered with a tarp. His brow furrowed. Magna pulled the tarp off and they reveal an impressive stash hidden beneath.

Daryl turns to Magna, a scowl on his face. _“Did you know about this?”_ He growls to Connie, signing sloppily. She shakes her head, looking just as confused as he was. Magna signs rapidly to Connie and whatever she was signing made Connie fold her arms and scoff.

“Hey, what she saying?” He asks Connie, pointing to Magna.

“I said I don’t trust you,” Magna says coolly, eyeing him.

It was Daryl’s turn to scoff. “What’s your problem, huh? Hilltop takes your ass in, they got sick children and hungry mouths to feed and you steal from them? Are all you good for is talking shit?”

Connie puts a hand up, stopping Magna from retorting and shakes her head. She scribbles on her pad before showing Magna and then Daryl. **_“We tell them we found it.”_** Daryl gets up with a huff and Connie looks up at him with hopeful eyes. She didn’t want him to lie, but she was scared that if Hilltop found out, they’d kick Magna to the curb and she couldn’t risk that, not with the Whisperers out there. And Daryl, he didn’t want to lie, to aid them in this. But he couldn’t say no, not with Connie looking up with wide eyes and fear written across her face. So he nods. For Connie, he would do it for _Connie_ , not for Magna.  
  


So they gathered up everything once Kelly was patched up and hydrated. Connie carried a pack and helped Kelly walk while Magna and Daryl carried the bulk of it. It was a long walk, taking breaks for Kelly. And after what felt like hours they were walking through the gates of Hilltop.

Yumiko came running over, enveloping Kelly into a hug. “What happened?” She asks, eying Magna and Daryl with the supplies.

Connie shakes her head, _“Not now, I’ll explain later.”_

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Tara sat down in the radio room Eugene had set up and turned the radio on to check in on Rosita. “Hilltop to Alexandria.”

_“Tara, that you?”_ It wasn’t Rosita’s voice that graced her ears, but Dante’s.

“Yeah. Dante? Where’s Rosita?”

There’s radio silence for a moment, then _“well, she didn’t want to worry you, but she’s caught a bug.”_

“A _bug?_ How? Is she okay? Is Coco?”

_“Easy, girl. Coco is fine, Barbara has her and RJ for now. And Rosita should be alright, she’s strong and healthy.”_

Tara sighs, “I’m going back tonight.” She had hoped for a few days, she barely even got to speak to Maggie and Hershel and had just a day with Jesus. But Rosita and Coco needed her.

_“You sure? I doubt she’ll make a turn for the worse overnight and don’t want you risking your life out there in the dark with the Whisperers around.”_

“I’ll be fine.”

****

A few rooms down, Yumiko had followed Magna to their room to corner her and get some answers.

“It’s scary to think Kelly likely wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t found that stash. Sounds like it was hidden pretty far from the main road, you’re lucky.”

Magna could hear the accusation thick in her voice. “Just say it. You think I’m the _Cellar Thief_ and the stash was mine.”

Yumiko shrugs helplessly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Then…it would have been smart.”

“Yeah, or it would have been—”

“Selfish, stupid?”

“I was going to say a mistake.”

“But you were thinking it,” Magna scoffs, pain in her eyes. “For _thirteen years_ that’s how you’ve looked at me.”

“That is not true!” Yumiko says, horrified Magna would even suggest that.

“Since the day you showed up with your fancy suit with all your fancy—”

Yumiko cuts her off. “You want to know what I thought that day? I thought, ‘here is a person, an innocent person who’s been locked up for a crime they didn’t commit. Someone who’s never trusted anybody because no one’s ever trusted her. Someone who’s good. And yeah, _mad_. Mad at the world for being messed up.’”

“You’re wrong. My cousin was a little girl, and he got to do that to her and live his life? Nobody came for him, so _I_ came for him. There it is…that look. Now that we’ve both killed, how many people do we have to kill, Miko?”

Yumiko is frozen and Magna is sure she’s going to storm out and never come back. But she moves towards her, and for half a second she’s expecting her to have wrath. But she just sits beside her, arms around her and hugs her closely, tentatively. Magna shakes her head and tries to pull away but Yumiko holds her tighter until Magna succumbs to her tears and slumps over in her grasp. Yumiko stroked her hair as she cried tears she’d been holding back for years.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Connie found Daryl in the shed, working on his bike. Dog was laying beside it, lapping at a bowl of what appeared to be some sort of broth.

_“You leaving?”_ She signs, brow furrowing. She thought he’d be here longer than a day, or at least stay the night. When had he last slept?

_“Yeah,”_ he points out to where Tara is saddling her mare. _“Tara needs to get back, her girl is sick. Is, uh…Kelly okay?”_ He tries to sign the sign for _Kelly._

Connie nods with a smile. Then her smile drops. _“I’m sorry for Kelly and Magna asking you to lie.”_

She realizes she just likely signed too much and fast for him and reaches for her pad but he stops her. “No, no. I get it. They’re _family_.” He signs _family_ , his hands moving in the motion of a large heart.

Connie smiles and signs family to him and he ducks his head. _“Talk later.”_

He wheels his bike out, Dog trotting after him. Tara mounts the horse and he starts the bike. His bike roars as he drives through the gates, the dog racing after him, Tara on the horse following.


	17. The Bonds We Form

**_Daryl & Carol_ **

Daryl was sitting on the porch, carving his knife into a figurine when he saw Carol slinking around. The woman was moving shop to shop, getting foot and getting some supplies. When he saw her move in the direction of the gate, he got up and followed her.

“Hey!” He calls to her and she pauses. “You’re feeling better?”

“Yup.” Her voice is tense, telling him she’s not up for a conversation.

“Where ya running off to?”

“Doing another sweep for Negan.” He didn’t buy that, not one bit.

“Want company?”

“Will you stay if I say no?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, eyes steely.

“Okay.” With that she’s off, and he follows her out the gate, towards the woods. They move in silence, and he usually prefers the silence but watching her simmer in her anger and pain was nearly unbearable.

“Think he crossed the border?” he asks, trying to strike up a conversation he thought she could deal with.

“Well he knows we can’t follow him over.”

“Can’t see him putting on a mask.”

Carol lets out a humorless laugh. “Or staying quiet for long. Still, stranger things have happened.”

They came across a grassy ledge above a clearing and Carol kneels down and starts rummaging through her pack. “What, we taking a break already?”

  
“Nope. This is our spot for today. Gonna stay here and see what we see.”

Daryl scoffs but sits on the log regardless. “He ain’t gon wander ‘round, wait to be spotted. He ain’t that dumb, neither are you.”

“Gee, thanks.” She holds up binoculars, looking through them.

“You gon tell me what we’re really doing out here?”

She gives him a look, playing dumb and it aggravated him to no end. “Looking for Negan.”

“Right,” he snorts. “You gon tell me what you’re _really_ looking for?”

Carol stares at him, knowing her friend well enough to know he won’t drop it before sighing heavily. “Alpha’s horde. Gonna find it and then we’re going to destroy it.

Daryl just stared at her, a million thoughts going on inside of his head.

**_Alexandria_ **

Dante was checking on his patients, the sick patients nearly doubling. As the only doctor, it was insanely overwhelming. He was checking on Cheryl, an elderly woman who had been a member of Alexandria since it started, joking around with her. Laughter may not be something that’ll cure the sickness but lifted spirits he believed helped push recovery along smoother in most cases.

“The heart wants what it wants. Don’t you think we’d make a bitchin’ couple?”

Cheryl’s laugh rang loud despite her wheezy lungs. “Son, I’d break you like a twig.”

He hears a melodic laugh and looks up to see Tara walking in, Coco in her arms. “How’s it going, Cheryl?”

“Jury’s still out,” Cheryl says, eyes twinkling.

“Ouch!” Dante laughs, hand on his heart in faux hurt. “I thought we were having a moment here, Cher.” He walks over to Tara, putting a tentative hand on Tara’s shoulder and smiling at the baby. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Ro’s not doing too hot but not much I can do.”

“We’ve got quite a few more cases of this bug going around now, too.”

“It’s what, seven now? Maybe we should call Hilltop, ask for Alex as backup. He was the doctor here before Enid…”

“Don’t worry, T. We’ve got this. Can’t do much but push herbs and keep everyone hydrated and just wait it out. Anyways, you should go soak up that mommy-daughter love cause they don’t stay small forever.” He ruffles Coco’s fuzzy curls and Tara smiles endearingly. “And if you need me to peek on Rosita later, I’ll be happy to. Just give me a shout.”

“Alright,” she gives him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Dante.”

“Anytime, T. Anytime.”

**_Daryl & Carol_ **

“Alpha’s been sending waves of walkers to screw with us right?” Carol and Daryl were looking over the map spread out between them. Carol was tracing it with her finger. “I’ve been tracking the walker movements by the borders, all small groups, probably Whisperers in them. They all connect back this general area. So that’s why we stake out this spot.”

“See where the skins go? Lead us back to their horde. Smart. They’ll need a big area, though. Like that canyon they used to be in. The only spots I know of are all in Whisperer territory, not gon be able to sneak in without starting some kind of shit.”

Carol shakes her head. “We only need to figure out where they are and then we’ll bring it to the council, I swear.”

Daryl eyes her, unsure whether to believe her or not. He cared for her deeply but lately she’d been a ticking time bomb. “Why weren’t you straight with me before?”

“After what happened at the border? Didn’t want you to worry about what I’d do. Sorry.”

He sighs, she played right into his emotions. “I get it.”

“I just want to keep us safe. Are you going to stick around now?”

“If you spot something, you gon need help tracking it, right?”

“I dunno. I picked up on a few tricks through the years.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

Carol laughs and Daryl chuckles, it almost felt like old times. _Almost_.

**_Alexandria_ **

“Alexandria to Hilltop, calling Hilltop.” Rosita had dragged her herself out of bed, somehow managing to get down the stairs without tumbling down and stumbled to the radio. Tara was out with Coco, getting the baby fresh air while letting Rosita sleep, but she had woken drenched in sweat, uncomfortable and bored.

_“Copy that, Alexandria. This is Hilltop,”_ a familiar voice responded and she smiled. It was a voice she hadn’t heard since he came to a realization that they weren’t meant to be and left, not even looking back.

“Eugene.”

_“Um, yes. Were you looking for anyone in particular?”_

“No, dumbass. I’m looking for you,” she chuckles tiredly.

_“Oh. Okie dokie.”_

“I just…” she sighs, resting her chin on her arms. “I wanted to see what you were up to so figured I’d call. I _am_ running a 102 degree fever so I could also be delirious.”

His voice turned into deep concern which made a smile spread on her lips. _“What sort of illness are we wrestling with?”_

“Just a bug, I’ll be fine. And Coco’s okay. What about you, what are you up to?”

_“Just some garden variety engineering to provide structured stability checks, a total revamp of the radio setup, everyone here seems to want a slice of Eugene.”_

Rosita listens, smiling with a reminiscent smile. She never thought she’d say she missed his ramblings, missed trying to interpret the array of words he said into something coherent to the average person.

“Are you coming home anytime soon?” she asks, bracing for the answer.

There’s a long pause, then _“To be honest, I haven’t given much thought to a time table, but it is mighty good to hear your voice.”_

“Yours, too.”

There’s static crackling and she winces _. “Hold on, we got a malfunction on my end,”_ Eugene’s voice crackled through.

“Everything okay?”

_“Bad wire, gap on my part. I’m going to have to fix this pronto before the whole system goes fubar.”_

“I should get back into bed anyways, I can call you again later this afternoon?”

_“Are radio waves sounds of silence?”_

“Um…yes?”

_“Yes, yes they are.”_

**_Daryl & Carol_ **

Daryl and Carol were perched on their log, tossing acorns at a now empty can trying to see who could knock it down first.

“So close!” Carol says as her accord whizzes past the can.

Daryl chuckles at her but he misses too and he grumbles, “damn it.”

“Mr. Crossbow, I thought aiming was your thing?” Carol jokes, poking his arm.

He scoffs. “Definitely ain’t yours.” He tosses another and it hits it, the can shifting but staying upright.

“Doesn’t count,” Carol says quickly.

“Course it does,” he argues.

Carol chuckles, shaking her head at him. “No it doesn’t. You gotta knock the can over, not just hit it.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a sore loser,” he joins into the poking fun.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “I’d have to lose in order to be classified as a sore loser. And since that didn’t count…” He scoffs and she laughs. She picks up another accord and stares at it. “Look, it’s a double capper. It’s good luck.” She offers it to him. “Maybe it’ll help your aim.”

He takes it with a smirk. “Funny, I’ll keep it but don’t need luck.” He sticks the double capper in his vest pocket, picking up a normal acorn.

“How was Hilltop?” She asks him as he tosses his acorn.

“Was fine.”

“Connie fine, too?” He snorts, giving her an incredulous look. “What? I see things.”

“S’not like that,” he denies quickly.

“Really?”

“Not like that at all.  
  


“Why not?” She seemed almost offended he was denying his obvious feelings. “Not too many people left in this world to find these days, much less good ones like her.”

“I know.”

“Then why not choose her?”

“What’s it matter?”

“Cause it does,” she says firmly. “You don’t need to be alone. Years have passed us by, Daryl. You can’t hide out with no one but your dog forever.”

He scoffs and whips an acorn and it hits the can, the whole thing falling over.

“See? Better aim already.”

He shrugs, ducking his head. “I’m hungry, you bring food?” Carol lifts her small satchel, pulling a small loaf out and splitting it in half. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite of the bread. He squints, seeing movement in the valley. “Hey, see that?”

Carol lifts up her binoculars, looking through them where she sees walkers gathering in the field, wandering in circles. She nods and hands them over so he can look through them.

“There’s a Whisperer with them.”

They walkers were steadily growing, coming out of the woodworks. Carol and Daryl stayed silent and still for a while, observing as it grew from stragglers to a small horde.

“It looks like they’re gathering up all the strays in the area,” Daryl whispers eventually.

“Once the sun sets, it’ll be tough to figure out where they go unless we get closer,” Carol whispers back.

“What makes ya think they’re going anywhere?”

“If _we_ were Whisperers, sunset is when we’d move. You know I’m right.”

“You’re saying for us to cross the border, aren’t you?”

“I want to find the horde.”

“Sure this ain’t you wanting to take another shot at Alpha?” He says accusation in his tone.

“The horde is our best shot, you gonna back out on me now?”

“Nah, didn’t say that.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

He growls, hating this. “If we do this, we gotta be smart bout it. No running off on me, we get backup. No going in just us.”

“Since when is just us not good enough?” Her voice cracks but unlike the past, he stood his ground.

“I got kids to look after back home, and if we mess this up its them and everyone back home that pays for it. Lydia, RJ, Judith. That’s who I look out for. I ain’t letting them kids pay for our actions.”

“We’ve _already_ paid for it,” she seethes. _“My_ kid paid for it with his life. And we keep paying for it no matter what side of the line we’re on.” She gets up and fixes him a look. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She stalks off.

Daryl wants to trust her, to believe in her. But the second she’s out of sight he’s grabbing her bag, rummaging through it. He finds nothing incriminating and drops the bag right when Carol steps out of the woods.

“Find what you were looking for?”

“Did you bring the gun?”

“No, I used us all the ammunition, remember?”

He shakes his head. “There’s still ammo left in the storage room.”

“I didn’t bring the gun, Daryl. Wanna frisk me? Go right ahead.”

It’s a trap and he knew it, so he shakes his head, “okay, fine. You didn’t bring it.”

“We have enough on the line. I’m not stupid.”

“Alright, fine. Lets do this then. Your plan is stupid, might as well just be us risking our lives.”

**_Alexandria_ **

Tara entered the house quietly, trying not to jostle Coco who was half asleep. She moves silently and freezes when she sees Rosita on the couch instead of up in her bed where she left her. She moved to the couch and places Coco down in the bassinet before sitting on the couch beside her. She strokes her damp hair back off of her burning forehead.

“Babe?” Rosita’s eyes flicker and she mumbles. “Aren’t you supposed to be up in bed?”

“I was,” she mumbles hoarsely. “I was feeling a bit better and came down, then I felt worse and now I’m stuck here.”

“You should have called for help or sent someone to get me,” she tells her softly, feeling how hot her forehead was with a grimace.

“I didn’t wanna worry you.”

Tara sighs softly. “How about we take a field trip to the infirmary? I can handle everything else. I’ll coordinate with Daryl when he comes back, I’ve got Coco, I’ll even clean the house,” that draws a laugh from Rosita. “Your only concern should be staying hydrated and getting better.”

“But—”

“Ro, please? I’d feel better if Dante took a look at you.”

“I guess,” she mumbles finally. Tara gets Coco situated in the car seat before helping Rosita to her feet, arm over her shoulder.

It took them time, Tara helping Rosita step by step—she was shuffling more than walking, while carrying Coco. But they get to the infirmary eventually, finding it nearly overflowing with the sick.

“Dante?!” Tara calls, helping Rosita lower herself onto a cot.

Dante came rushing over, breathing heavily. “It’s bad.”

“I was just here a few hours ago, how did it get this bad?”

“I don’t…maybe we should call for back up?”

“I think we should, it just got a hell of a lot worse.”

**_Daryl & Carol_ **

When the sun was setting, Daryl and Carol were crossing the border quietly to sneak up to the horde, ready to follow them.

“Remember the rules?” Daryl whispers.

“Don’t be seen, no killing walkers unless it’s absolutely necessary, leave no tracks. Watch, learn, leave.”

“Anything goes sideways, we leave. Got it? We split up but stay in earshot just in case. If anything goes bad we meet up right back here, on this side of the border.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

Daryl nods, not as worried for his own safety as he is for hers. “You, too.”

They split ways, staying in earshot of each other. They wandered into the woods, finding their places to watch as nightfall came. They were close enough to each other that he saw her when she edged too close to the edge of the woods, too close to be seen. He waves for her to retreat and she stares at hm before waving him off. He waves again and she ignores him this time.

Carol eases closer before deliberately stepping on a branch, making a loud cracking sound. Walkers broke off from the horde and headed into the woods. Daryl drops down when he sees the Whisperer enter, trying to herd them away, and he heard an eerie whisper. The skin freak knew someone was out here, and their plan was now compromised.

A walker walked to him, spying him and started snarling hungrily. Daryl tensed up, the Walkers snarls were sure to attract the hunting Whisperer. He took ahold of the walker, twisting it around and snapping the neck so it couldn’t bite him while he guts it. He grimaces before taking handful of blood and guts, covering himself including his face. As normal as it was, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely used to it. The walkers who had been attracted walked past him as he held his breath, praying the Whisperer wasn’t trailing them. The whisperer wasn’t stupid enough to mistake him as a walker.

_“Where are you?”_ Came an eerie whisper behind him that made his blood turn cold. He swallows hard, and only releases his breath when he faintly hears the Whisperers footfalls fade away.

**_Alexandria_ **

The infirmary was busy, patients dripping in sweat and coughing while Dante, with Tara’s aid, worked with the sick. Tara had called Alex, but he wasn’t able to come until the next week. He still had patients with injuries, some with bad infections from the tree collapsing and he was needed there until they were out of the woods. He’d be sending someone the next morning with the herbs and medicines Hilltop could spare, at least.

Tara was sitting at Cheryl’s bedside, placing a cool cloth to her head. “It’s been decades since I’ve received this much attention from any young man or woman.”

“You’re kind of my patient,” Tara jokes, “it’s kind of my temporary job to pay attention to you.”

Cheryl chuckles before her face turns serious. “What’s with your look of doom and gloom, sweetheart? I feel like I’m napping next to the Grim Reaper.”

Tara sighs, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Cheryl. I’m just…. I’m concerned.”

Cheryl squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb over it. “Don’t be, love. You know in this world, most people don’t get the luxury of drifting off in a nice cozy bed surrounded by people who care for them. I should be so lucky to go this way.”

Tears well up in Tara’s eyes. “No—no, Cheryl, you’re not…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be okay.”

Tara swipes at her cheek, sniffling. When Cheryl drifts off to sleep and gets up, walking away. She nearly walks into Dante. He grabs her shoulder, steadying her.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Long day,” she manages to make out.

He puts an arm around her shoulder, not as tentative as before now that he realizes that she welcomes closeness. Does better in closeness. “It’s been the longest. We’re in a time of pre-industrial meds so simple shit like this can become a big deal. But we’ll figure this out, T. And thank you for your help today, I appreciate it so much.”

She shrugs. “It was just holding puke buckets and handing out cool cloths mostly. Not a big thing.”

“It _was_ a big thing.”

“You do the real big stuff. I appreciate all you’ve done with Ro.”

“You should, cause I’m kind of amazing,” he jokes trying to get her to smile.

Tara laughs tiredly, and Dante hugs her. “Go home, hold your daughter, get some rest. If Rosita gets worse, bring her right back here, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles into his chest. He rubs her back for a few minutes before letting her go. She gives him a tired smile before trudging away.

She makes her way home tiredly, more emotionally than physically. She climbs the steps and goes inside. She makes her way up to their bedroom, finding Rosita deep asleep. She perches on the edge of the bed, stroking soaked hair back off of her feverish forehead.

Coco starts crying and she suppresses a cry, she just wanted to rest. But she forces herself upright, forces herself to pick the baby up before her cries wake Rosita up. She sits in the rocking chair, shushing her gently. “It’s okay, baby. Shh, Mama’s got you.” She presses kisses to the baby’s head.

Coco still cries and suddenly Tara isn’t there anymore. She’s in a dark, damp barn and Coco’s cries are gone. Instead she hears Enid’s desperate sobs. Tara grabbed onto her and Enid cried and screamed, blood dripping from the gash on her head. Tara pleaded and begged for them to kill her, to let Enid live. But they didn’t listen.

Coco’s screams snap her out of her flashback but she’s panicking, crying and hyperventilating. She tries to catch her breath, to calm herself down.

Dante’s voice sounds in her air, his advice she had ignored but right now she knew she needed it. _“You need to use your senses, if things get bad and nobody’s there or at least nobody who can help, use your senses. You think of…three things you can see.”_ Coco’s face with tear streaks, the window where the moon is in sight, Rosita still asleep somehow. _“Three things you can feel.”_ Coco’s squirming body under her hands, the rocking of the chair, the hot tears on her own cheek. _“Three things you can hear.”_ Coco’s cries, the creaking of the rocking chair, her own rapid breath. And slowly, surely, her breaths steadied out and so did Coco’s cries. And she knew that maybe she was going to be okay.

**_Daryl & Carol_ **

When Daryl, covered in Walker blood and his heart still beating wildly in his chest, found Carol he felt anger bubble in his chest. Carol was unaffected, looking simple and satisfied with a Whisperer on his knees, bound and bloody.

“What the hell is this?!”

“He saw me,” she said simply, as if it wasn’t her plan to attract attention from stomping on that branch, “we can take him back, see what he knows. It’s a _good_ thing.”

Daryl shakes his head with rage. “You plan this?”

“No.” She hauls the man to his feet aggressively.

“What’s this?” He motions to the man’s binds. He’s zip-tied, and there was no zip ties in her bag when he had searched it. “This wasn’t in your bag.”

“Must’ve missed them,” she says coolly, eying him, daring him to argue. “We don’t have time to argue, what’s done is now done.”

She walks away, pulling him forward with her. Daryl scoffs angrily, following him, simmering in anger at her absolute recklessness.


	18. Open Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the moment everyone has been dreading

_There was a Whisperer, one she didn’t recall in any other flashback or memory. There’s Alpha, flowery dress and demonic smile, “look.” Whispers in her ear, “Tell them that their land is my land. Tell them there will be consequences if they cross into my land. Tell them to listen or die.” There’s hands on her face, ones she never felt before, a gravelly males voice: “open your eyes.”_

Tara wakes with a start, breathing heavily.

She had been doing so much better, but the past few days was like a complete setback with all her progress in her Dante appointed therapy. But she couldn’t tell anybody—with so many sick, and her aiding Dante almost daily in the infirmary and she had too much to do. She couldn’t take time for herself, she couldn’t take a breather.

Her first check was with Cheryl, who was deteriorating quickly. But Tara refused to accept that. She tilts the old woman’s head up, pressing a cool glass to her lips to hydrate her. “It’s going to be okay, Cheryl. It _has_ to be.”

After she checks on the other patients, she goes home to check on Rosita. She isn’t doing worse, but she’s not too much better. After pressing a cool cloth to her head and giving her water, she gathers the jugs to refill them.

She chuckles at the sign Eugene had put up beside the levers. “Report any issue to Eugene or Father Gabriel, do not mess with these finely tuned mechanisms yourself.”

Her amusement is short lived, because there’s even more patients when she lugs the jugs with Gabriel’s help to the infirmary. Dante and Tara kept trying to figure out why they were all sick but to no avail. Tara’s high spirits and hopefulness was going down by the hour, and she felt like she was drowning.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl and Carol hauled the blindfolded hostage through the gates. Daryl was exhausted from being up over twenty four hours now, he got less and less sleep lately. It made him more aggravated than usual, but he was okay with the hostage. Not because he backed Carol, no he was pissed beyond belief at Carol for her lies and recklessness. But he was okay with it because it meant they needed the cell.

It had been over a week since the kid locked herself in Negan’s old cell, a week of him staring in her empty bedroom, week of him sitting on the steps of the cell when he couldn’t sleep and sending Dog down to give her comfort. Needing the cell meant she had to come out, back into their house, up into her bedroom.

He jogs down the steps ahead of Carol and pulls the door open, stepping inside. “Come on, get up. We need the cell.”

He pretends not to notice her face falling as she pushes herself up from her position on the floor, picking her book she was reading up with her. She steps out of the cell just in time for Carol to shove the hostage through the cell. Lydia watches with wide eyes and both Carol and Daryl can tell that the girl recognizes him.

She turns and limps up the stairs, making her way to some gurneys to perch on. She couldn’t bare just standing yet. Carol is the first to exit and she makes a beeline to Lydia, who shifts uncomfortably.

“You know him?”

Lydia nods, eyes downcast. “He’s one who watches the Guardians—I mean, Walkers.”

“So he knows where your mother’s horde is?”

She flinches under Carol’s harsh tone. “Probably.”

Before Carol can fire anymore questions at her, Gabriel came over fuming. “You’ve put us all at risk!” He shouts at Carol who doesn’t even blink. Lydia on the other hand cowers down.

“We have to find that horde before it shows up at our gates,” Carol says simply.

“So _you_ decide for all of us?” Daryl appeared after hearing Gabriel’s shouts. “Even knowing what this could mean?”

“Don’t matter no more, we gotta find ‘em,” Daryl tells Gabriel though he doesn’t look anymore okay with the situation than Gabriel does.

“Fine. But I’m going in with you,” he points a finger at Carol. “Dante will tend to his injuries first.”

“He bleeds ‘til he answers,” Carol says through gritted teeth.

“That is _not_ your call to make! _None_ of this is. _You_ chose to do this, and I’m going to keep this from going from bad to worse. And I know the council would agree, _including_ Michonne.”

Carol glares at him, seething. Daryl shakes his head, moving to Lydia to grab her arm when he sees her blatant discomfort. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

He keeps a hand on her back, his heart constricting at how she still has a slight limp, how she still clutches her ribs. He opens the door, letting her in and nods to the stairs. He figured she wouldn’t want to be crowded so he’d let her go up alone, get situated or curl up in bed, whatever she needed to feel comfortable.

“Go on up. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

She nods silently, making her way up the steps one by one. Daryl goes to go down to his room in the basement, ready to decompress and maybe catch a good nap when Carol’s voice halts him.

“Thanks for having my back with Gabriel.”

“Just the truth,” he grumbles.

“The Whisperer won’t give up the information easily. If you want to sit this one out, I get it.”

He scoffs at her before going down. He goes into his room, putting the double capper Carol gave him on the desk, eyeing it. So much for luck.

He takes his vest and shirt off, stretching before calling for Dog. The dog comes running into the room, jumping up on him. Daryl climbs onto the couch, his makeshift bed, the dog jumping up and laying on him. He scratches the dog behind his ears, grimacing at the dog breath directly in his face.

The dog was soothing, the weight of the mutt on his chest was comforting, and he didn’t have much trouble drifting to sleep.

****

Up on the top floor of the house, Lydia was on the balcony looking over Alexandria. Her eyes scanned the barn, the gate, _“silence the Whisperers”_ painted all over. It was a kick in the gut for her. She was relieved somebody, probably Daryl, had scrubbed the words off their front door at least.

The door behind her creaks open, and the footsteps that walk up behind her is too light to be Daryl’s. “Thought Daryl was coming up.”

“He is,” came Carol’s voice. “Later.”

Carol leans Lydia’s staff against the railing beside her. Lydia eyes it. It was Henry’s, it once held so much meaning to her. But now it was tainted, her first thought wasn’t _“Henry’s staff”_ but a memory of the staff in Margo’s hands, the feeling of Margo striking her face with her own staff, the sight of the staff held over her ready for the final blow.

“This still yours?” Lydia doesn’t speak, but she takes it anyways, fiddling with the strap. Carol holds out a jar of some kind of salve. “This will help with the rest of your bruises.”

Lydia shakes her head, leaning away. “I’ve had worse.”

Carol sets it down in front of her, regardless. “Me, too.” She pauses before asking, “That Whisperer, what else do you know about him?”

Lydia realizes Carol wasn’t here to check up on her, to return her staff or even give her that salve. The staff and salve and faux concern was a front, a mask to make her comfortable so Carol could get when she needed from her.

Lydia might not be in a cell getting tortured for information, but she almost wished she was. The physical pain she could take, _had_ taken. But the fake concern, the making her feel safe for the first time in her life just to leech information from her, using her as a pawn in a never ending game against her own mother was almost too much to bare.

Still, she answered. “He won’t betray my mom. The ones who watch the horde, they’re loyal. She gives them no choice.”

“Neither will I.” Her cold voice sends a shiver down Lydia’s spine. “What else?”

“People will die, right?” She blinks against the sudden tears. “I hate them. But I know them, too.”

Carol scowls. “Alpha drew a line, now you need to choose which side you’re on.”

A tear rolls down her cheek. She didn’t want this, she didn’t ask for it. “I wish I left with Henry when he asked.”

“So do I.”

Lydia breathes in deep through her nose, blinking rapidly. “My mom twists people, gets them to do what she wants. She makes them think it’s what _they_ want. People obey because they think they have no other choice, but if you let him see what you have here, that a place like this can survive…an idea like that is dangerous and it would spread. And there’d be nothing my mother could do to stop it.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Dante had been called to check on the prisoner and asked Tara to tag along. He thought she was ready—seeing _one_ Whisperer wasn’t too big a deal. And she followed, unable to tell him the flashes and nightmares he helped chase away had come back with a vengeance.

He entered the cell, Tara trailing behind him.

“Don’t try anything,” Dante warns him, pulling out his knife.

“Never,” the Whisperer says as if he had great respect and Tara looks in confusion for the prisoners submission.

Dante frees him of his binds, pulling the jacket aside to see the nasty stab wound under his collarbone. “He’s gonna need stitches.”

Tara goes to offer him his bag of supplies when the Whisperer stares at her. “I know you…” She freezes. “Look. Open your eyes.”

Tara shudders, backing away shaking her head. She’s breathing heavily and drops the bag, turning and running out of the cell. Dante calls for her but she ignores him. She sees the spikes fence surrounding the cell entry and she lets out a sob. A sword dripping with blood, splattering on her own face. The pikes with their loved one’s heads. _“Look. open your eyes,”_ sounds in her head as Alpha swipes her sword, taking Enid’s head off.

****

Carol entered the cell, balancing a covered tray. Daryl followed her with a scowl on his features. Carol had decided to listen to Lydia’s idea, to try it before resorting to the violence she was desperate for. She places the tray in front of the prisoner and pulls a seat up to sit across from him. He stares at her in anticipation for torture.

“Let’s get started.” She pulls the cover off of the tray and the prisoner eyes the tray, loaded with fresh bread and colorful jam. “So, what’s it going to be? Honey or jam? Strawberry or apple?”

The prisoner is silent, seeming to have an internal battle. Then he says in a breathy whisper, “all of it.”

She smiles in fake sweetness, picking the bread to spread jams and honey onto it. “Not a problem. We have plenty of this here. And for lunch, I was thinking salted fish? I like wrapping it up in a big piece of fresh lettuce and—”

“What do you want?” He interrupts.

“Right now I just want to talk.”

“Pass.”

“Okay,” she offers him the slice. “Then just eat for now.”

He takes it, hands shaking. He takes a bite, eyes filling with tears as he just holds it in his mouth, savoring the taste. Then he shoves the entire slice in his mouth, small whimpers leaving his throat. He hadn’t had anything with flavor, anything enjoyable to eat, since before the apocalypse.

“Good?”

He stares at her before spitting out a big mouthful right into Carol’s face. “No.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Tara is pressing her hand to Rosita’s head, breathing out when her head isn’t burning anymore. It’s slightly warm and she’s pale, but the drenched and sweat and high fever days seemed behind them, at least for now. Rosita’s eyes flicker and she looks up at her.

“Hey there,” Tara says gently.

“Hey,” Rosita croaks. “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

Tara forces a smile, “I’m fine.”

“Am _I_ okay?”

“Oh yeah, nice and pasty.”

Rosita chuckles and Tara’s smile is a bit less fake. “Still look good though.”

“Damn right, still the most beautiful thing on planet Earth.”

Rosita laughs, her pale cheeks getting some color. “Stop it.”

“Make me,” she laughs, “scoot over.”

Rosita sits up and scoots over. Tara climbs into bed beside her and she lays back against her. Tara holds her close, kissing the side of her head.

“I’ve been thinking about Eugene.”

“Wait, what?” Tara laughs and Rosita smiles. “Sorry, just what?”

“We set a date to talk, try to reconnect and I missed it. I don’t want him to think I was dissing him.”

“I know. He radioed today to see if you were okay after you didn’t call yesterday. He was worried. I told him you missed it because of our field trip to the infirmary. He wishes you a quick recovery and looks forward to talking when you’re up for it again.”

“He called to check in on me? And you explained it to him?”

“Mm, I did.”

“I love you, y’know?”

Tara chuckles, kissing her gently. “I love you, too. So much. Oh, and Eugene’s done some research and gave me some baby tips for Coco.”

It was Rosita’s turn to say “wait, what?”

Tara laughs, “he suggested a poop chart.”

“A poop chart?” She bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, not exactly sure I want to do that, though. And he told me how to wrap her into the most perfect burrito baby.”

“Oh my god,” Rosita laughs harder, coughing a little.

Tara offers her some water. “You know, it still feels surreal. Coco, I mean. We have a baby.”

“Yes, we do. The most amazing baby ever. I never thought I’d be a mom in this world, y’know?”

“I didn’t either. Never thought I’d be a mom at all, actually. It’s kind of scary, wanting to do it right but not knowing how to in this world. I mean, we watched Judith and RJ and Hershel get raised, but this one is ours. She’s _our_ responsibility. I want to be a good mom.”

“You already are. You loves you so much. We don’t need to be perfect, we just have to do our best to keep her safe and happy. She’s lucky to have you, especially with me being so sick lately.”

“She loves you, too. I know she misses having you all the time.”

“I miss her—” She hits another coughing fit and Tara rubs her back, helping her drink more water.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Rosita breathes out. She eyes Tara. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been helping Dante in the infirmary a lot, everyone else who has even an inkling of medical training is sick and all essential people are busy so all he’s got is me. He’s been trying to teach me the basics as we go. I have _some_ knowledge—my sister was a nurse, and then Denise…it’s just a lot regardless. And there’s so many patients to hydrate and keep comfortable and so many people are at death’s door so we’re on walker watch and…” she sighs, shaking her head. “You need some sleep.”

“So do you, you’re _exhausted,_ Tara.”

Tara pulls the blanket over her, pressing her lips to her forehead. “I’ll sleep soon. I promise.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in the cell, they were trying to interrogate the Whisperer but he was not budging. He was almost amused at how scary Carol tried to be.

“Where does Alpha keep the horde?” He still stares her in stony silence. After a half hour of questioning, her patience snapped. She leapt up and gouged her fingers into the freshy stitched wound and he howled in pain. “Tell me!”

“I see the animal in you,” he chokes out through his pain. “If we were out there, I’d take you like a bitch in heat.”

Daryl pushed off the wall, anger and disgust written on his face. He had that thought in the back of his mind since the many times Alpha had told them they live like animals, but he never acknowledged it. The confirmation made him feel sick. His mind flickered to Lydia, he knew Alpha abused her, but she wouldn’t allow _that_ to happen to her daughter, would she?

Carol stabs her finger into his wound again to shut him up. After she takes a ring from her pocket, holding it up before sliding it onto her finger. He eyes her, almost daring her to surrender to her darkest side. And she does when she curls her fist, punching him once, twice, three times. Blood trickled from the corner of his vile mouth, from a cut beside his eye.

“That’s enough!” Daryl calls when he realizes Carol has no desire to stop.

“You’re all weak,” the prisoner makes out, spitting a mouthful of blood out.

Daryl unsheathes his dagger. “We ain’t. I’mma start with your fingers, then your ears. And after if you ain’t dead I’ll take all your teeth.”

The Whisperer chuckles dryly. “You lie to yourselves. To each other. You fight for what? _Sandwiches.”_ Daryl grabs his wrist roughly, pinning it above his head with the blade pressing against his fingers. “You ignore the truth when it’s staring you right in the face. I would never betray Alpha. She rescued me, she protects me, she loves me. She loves us all. She sacrificed her own _daughter_ for us.”

Carol stares at him. “She killed Lydia?”

He smiles. “She did. And I am willing to give my life for her.”

Carol runs out of the cell in an instant and Daryl is chasing after her in a flash, knowing exactly where she was headed. “Carol! No!”

Carol pauses on the steps leading up to their house. “This ends now.”

“You are not getting Lydia mixed up in this shit. That kid’s been through enough.”

“He swallowed every ounce of Alpha’s bullshit! _Every ounce!_ She told them she killed her! If he sees Lydia is alive and well, gets it that his great leader lied to them then maybe that changes things.”

“Please, don’t. Leave her alone. Leave her out of it.”

“Let her make up her own damn mind.”

She runs up the steps and before he can follow, Gabriel grabs the back of his vest. He shoves him off, but Carol had already disappeared into the house. He growled in anger, unable to follow. It was bad enough Carol was going to manipulate that child into aiding her agenda, but if he went in and they started a fight in front of her, he wasn’t sure she was stable enough for that. So best he could do was let Carol do what she was doing and then try to protect Lydia best he could once she did.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Tara checked Cheryl’s temperature, grimacing at the climbing numbers. She wasn’t sure how much higher it could go. She was scared Cheryl had a foot through death’s door already.

“Not good?” Cheryl croaks.

Tara forces a smile on her face. “It’s a little better than last time.”

“You aren’t a very good liar,” she whispers, her voice so weak.

“Cheryl, you’re going to get through this, okay? I’ll make sure you do.”

She gives her hand a gentle squeeze before turning to leave.

“Sit down, love,” she weakly gestures to the chair. Tara sighs but falls heavily into the chair. It _did_ feel good to be off her feet. “You look worse than I do. You need to sleep.”

“Cheryl, I can’t. I need—”

“Please, for me. I’ve made my peace with this. But others? They need you at your best, need you with your strength. They need your good spirits. Sleep now, sweet one.”

Meanwhile in the cell, Dante rushes in. Gabriel had found him, rushing him to the cell. The Whisperer was shaking mercilessly, gasping in pain.

“Put your healing hands on me, doc. My body’s on fire!”

“What the hell happened?” Dante asks loudly, falling to his knees beside the convulsing prisoner.

“How the hell should I know? Make it stop!” The Whisperer screeches.

Dante examines him, mumbling to himself, “labored breaths, eyes are dilating, no infection. What is this?”

The Whisperer starts coughing out warm, sticky blood all over Dante’s white lab coat. He convulses, screaming and gurgling while Dante watches helplessly. And then he stills and he’s dead.

Right at the moment the door opens and in came Carol with Lydia on her heels and Daryl runs to them, shooing them back up. “No, don’t need to see this, kid.” Lydia hesitates but let’s Carol lead her back up.

Daryl returns to the body, seeing Dante pluck some sort of herb from the Whisperers pocket.

“Hemlock,” Dante says gravely. “This killed him. He must’ve taken it as an easy way out but didn’t realize how long it’d take or how bad the reaction to it would be. He must’ve snuck it in with his food without anyone noticing.”

Daryl huffs and sticks his knife in his brain so he doesn’t turn. “I’ll clean this mess up.”

Gabriel kneels beside him. “I’ll help. We both know this isn’t _your_ mess to clean.”

****

When they left the cell, Carol steered Lydia away from the comfort of their home and to the direction of the barn.

“Let’s go hunting.”

Lydia dug her heels in, shaking her head. “N-no, I’m not aloud to go, I’m not supposed to leave the walls. It’s not safe. Daryl said—”

“Darryl’s busy. Come on, do you want to sit around in a house or a cell being useless or come be useful and try to pay back this community for all they sacrificed to keep you alive, hm?”

Lydia stares at her, eyes glistening with tears. “I want to be useful.”

“Then come on, we’re wasting daylight. We’ll be back before Daryl finds out and we’ll stay close to home.”

Lydia reluctantly follows, her stomaching aching with fear that this was a bad idea, but she couldn’t tell Henry’s mother no. Couldn’t deny her aid no matter how much she wanted to.

Carol tacks a horse up and Lydia blurts out that she can’t ride. Carol brushed her off, telling her they’d ride double. Lydia waited anxiously while she prepared the horse and mounted. She almost felt sick when Carol held out a hand and helped her up behind her.

Her broken ribs protested with every step in the horse’s bouncy trot, and as time went on and the pain in her side grew, she knew they weren’t staying close. They were sticking on a road for far too long, going too close to her mother’s territory.

“We aren’t going hunting, are we?”

“You still want to help?”

Lydia was scared to say no despite all her instincts telling her to. she doesn’t trust this woman, but she feels safe enough. “Yeah…”

_“Good.”_

…………………………………………………………………………………………

When Tara wakes up, the first thing she notices is Cheryl’s bed is empty. She sits up straight in the chair, looking around in concern. “Cheryl?” Then she has a sinking feeling and leaps to her feet. “No, no…”

She runs outside and she spots Dante digging a grave. As she moves closer she sees there’s a body on the ground beside him, wrapped in Cheryl’s quilt. A sob rips through her throat. _“No.”_

Dante notices her and he has tears glistening in his own eyes. “Hey…”

“N-no…not her…”

“I wanted to wake you, but you looked so peaceful and you haven’t slept in days…”

Tara backs away with a sob. “Tara!” She shakes her head, breaking into a sprint. She ran, not sure where her destination was. Flashes of death blind her. Enid with her raised fist, knife in hand as she tried to fight her way out. Blood spreading across the barn floor, screams in the air.

Her heart is beating so fast she wonders if she’s having a heart attack. Everyone is dying around her, everyone dying _because_ of her. She needs something, anything, to ground her. She spots the water and in a moment of blind panic, she runs to it, jumping in. The water rushes against her ears, her vision blurring. The image of their faces, the sound of their screams start to die out as she drowns.

She welcomes it.

As the world starts to fade away, she feels the water move as someone jumps in behind her. She feels hands grab her and they’re ascending. She gasps mouthfuls of fresh air, trying to satisfy her burning lungs as her savior pulls her up on the dock.

“Tara, what the hell?”

It’s Rosita, flushed and looking more concerned than she has since the fair.

“I wasn’t trying to—I just wanted it to stop. I couldn’t breathe, I thought the water would make it calm again,” she sobs into Rosita’s neck. “It hurts so bad, Ro.”

“I heard about Cheryl,” she says gently, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, Tara.”

“I don’t…I can’t…” she shakes her head. “You should be in bed, you’ll catch your death out here.”

“No, I’m not going. I’m not leaving you alone. You aren’t okay, so you’re going to tell me what’s going on. If not for me then for Coco.”

“Ro, I—”

“No. No more bullshit. Tell me what’s going on. This is more than you being stressed out for this sickness going around.”

“I keep…the flashes are worse. Every day, it’s like I never left that barn. But it comes to me in pieces, like a puzzle and I can’t put it back together. There are pieces I understand, things that I remember. But there are things I don’t. I try, Ro. _So_ hard. Dante was helping, I did his exercises and I tried but I can’t make them stop. It’s like I hit the undo button. People are dying all around me, every day. I can’t do anything to make it stop. Everyone I touch…Cheryl…”

“Cheryl was very sick, Tara. You’ve done everything you can, you’ve learned new things to help these people. And Tara, you aren’t alone. You have me and Coco. And Jesus, Maggie, Magna, Yumiko, Dianne. If you need to go back home to where we have our biggest support system, say the word and we’ll go back.”

“I want to go home, but I can’t. Not yet. I need to let Dante try to help more, to know if I’m just broken or not.”

“You are not broken.”

“You know the worst part?” Tara keeps going, needing this all off her chest. Rosita lets her. _“Enid._ I spent five years with her, seeing her every single day. I watched her grow from this teenager trying to find her place to this strong, confident young woman. She became a _doctor_. I think every day how I failed her, how I failed _all_ of them. I know there’s nothing I could have done, everything would have just gotten me killed, too. But these thoughts have gotten their claws into me real good.”

“I remind you very day and I will keep reminding you that it’s not your fault. We can kick those nasty thoughts asses. We _will_.”

“People I loved died in front of me, and now it’s happening over and over again. It kills me.”

“I think…maybe you should take a step back from the infirmary. I know you’re a lot of help there, but it’s not worth risking your health.”

“It’s not…I’m not smart enough to figure this out.”

“Bullshit. You are the smartest person I know. You aren’t a doctor, and anyways the actual doctor can’t figure it out either. It’s not _you_.”

“I know. I just wish that we could figure out why everyone’s sick. It’s not something contagious, Coco and I are fine. Dante’s fine. And everyone sick didn’t live together, work together or even eat the same food at the same time anyways. There’s no common denominator, not one I can think…” Tara trails off, realization hitting her. “Wait…”

“What is it? Tara?”

“I think…I think I know. I need you to go home before you get sicker while I see if I’m right. Please.”

“Alright.” Rosita wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t concerned for Tara’s safety anymore so she got up, heading home.

Tara ran down the docks to the levers to check the water. She checked every knob and lever, all of them seemingly fine. She’s about to frustratingly call it quits when she sees it—the levers weren’t right. They were bent and twisted, so while they appeared to be safe, they were actually on undrinkable. Tara wasn’t an avid water drinker and was even less of one now. She always preferred juice and lemonade to the point Rosita, Maggie and Jesus teased her about it. Coco wasn’t sick because she had switched to formula when Rosita, an avid water drinker, started feeling sick. The _water_ was doing this—the water was killing people. Cheryl died from _contaminated water_.

Tara fixes them all before letting out a scream, kicking over everything in her path, sobs ripping through her. She collapsed on the docks, crying and rocking back and forth while she processed everything. It was _so_ preventable. How did someone get in and mess with the water? _Why_ would they do that? It didn’t make sense to her, the why and the how. She sat there for a long time while the thoughts ran laps in her mind.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun had set by the time Carol and Lydia reached their destination. Carol hadn’t told Lydia anything more and the girl was simmering with anxiety. Carol halted the horse much to Lydia’s relief, she wasn’t sure her ribs could take much more. They dismount and they hear voices. Carol instantly recognizes one as Aaron. What was Aaron doing here? Who was he with?

“Stay here, I don’t know who’s up there with Aaron. If I need you to come, I’ll call your name. If I need backup, listen for… _‘come on, now.’_ That’s how I’ll call you discreetly.”

“O-okay.”

“Good girl.” Carol draws her bow and runs up onto the bridge, bow ready. She sees Aaron with a Whisperer, a woman. She pulls Aaron in front of her as a shield, knife to his throat.

“Back off!” The woman shouts.

“Let him go!” Carol shouts and the woman just holds him tighter. “Let him go!”

“Lower your bow!” The woman says.

“Come on, now!” Carol says the magic words and Lydia stumbles up the bank onto the bridge, staff firmly in her hands.

The Whisperer stumbles back, letting Aaron go. “No…no!” She’s shaking like a leaf and Carol is confused when Aaron reaches for her. Did he know this woman?

Lydia’s just as confused but about something else entirely. She’s not sure why this woman—she was newer last time Lydia was with them—is looking at her like she was the angel of death. “It can’t be!” The woman lets out a distressed sob before running away.

Lydia looks at Carol, eyes shimmering with more tears. “What…?”

“Your mother told her people that she had killed you.”

Lydia’s chin quivers and it feels like she was stabbed in the gut. She left her mother, she chose to leave. But it still hurt so much that her mother would say she was dead, to permanently cut her from her life. She turns, backing up away from her. Backing towards the border.

“You said you wanted my help.”

“I did,” Carol says simply, unaffected by the damage she had caused.

“You used me!” Lydia spits out, hot tears dripping from her eyes.

“Lydia, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just like her!”

Aaron takes a step to her, shaking his head. “Lydia, come on now. She didn’t mean to—”

“She did!” She yells to him. she looks between the two and then to the border that led into her mother’s land. “You said you wanted me to choose a side? Well I choose mine!” She moves to the border and Carol rushes forward.

“You can’t go out there! It’s too dangerous.”

“You can’t stop me.” Carol stupidly lurches forward to grab her and Lydia strikes out, hitting her sharply across her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble back. Aaron moves and Lydia holds the staff up threateningly. She backs up a few steps before turning and running into the woods.

“Lydia!” Carol yells, trying to run after her but Aaron stops her.

“You can’t cross the border.”

“Daryl’s going to kill me.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Tara was standing at the window, staring at her reflection. She was _tired_. Physically, emotionally. She wanted to sleep but she couldn’t shut her mind off no matter how tired her bones were. She heard a knock on her door, but she was paralyzed to the spot. The door creaks open and she hears footfalls come closer.

“Hey,” it’s Dante’s voice. _Of course_ it was. “I know it’s getting late but I needed to check on you. Where’s Rosita and Coco?”

“Ro felt better and took Coco for a walk. Said she might stop at Daryl’s, visit with RJ. I want to be alone right now.”

“You _shouldn’t_ be alone right now. Tara, look. I’m sorry, I should’ve woken you when Cheryl died.”

“Stop. It’s not _that_ and you know it.”

“I know you’re blaming yourself, but none of this is on you. Not noticing the water was tampered with, not everyone’s sickness. I know you just want everything to make sense, but it doesn’t always work like that. We’re getting there, this takes time. It takes a village, T, and we’re in one. Everyone here seems to love you.”

“I don’t know why you try hard to fix me.”

“Because you’re my friend. And I’m not _fixing_ you, Tara. I’m _helping_ you. You’re not broken. And you aren’t alone.” Dante walks over, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, T.”

He makes a clucking sound, almost like a clock. _Tick, tock._ It was something he did often, especially when he was stressed. He did it when the sickness spread more rapidly than they could contain, when she had a panic attack right in front of him. But she first heard it when—

The puzzle pieces came together, and for the first time since the fair it all made sense. She flashes to the Whisperer holding her down, holding her when Enid was pried from her arms. The Whisperer forcing her to watch then Alpha forced Enid to her knees, when she sliced the blade through the girls neck. She remembers the clucking sound, sounding in her ear, _tick tock, tick tock. “Open your eyes.”_ She remembers looking into the Whisperer’s eyes, seeing guarded eyes staring at her apprehensively through her tears. And when she looks at Dante’s reflection in the blackened window, it’s not her friends reflection, but the refection of that Whisperer. He _was_ that Whisperer.

She pulls away from his embrace, taking a step back. She looks at him, realization on her face. “Tara?”

Her eyes flit to her axe on the desk and back to him. She’s not sure how much a threat he was to her, how willing he’d be to take her out. She sees his eyes harden dangerously and she knows that her time was running out. She darts forward to grab her axe. Her fingers just brush over it when she’s grabbed, flung backwards away from the one thing that could save her life.

“No! Get off of me!” She screams, trying to fight her way out of his arms. He’s bigger and stronger and she’s tired. But Rosita—Rosita doesn’t deserve this, Coco doesn’t deserve this. So she fought with all her strength.

He grabs a fistful of her Hair and she whimpers. He slams her into the wall and pain explodes behind her eyes and she feels sticky blood tricking down her face. “Why did you have to remember?!” He screams with a sob. She feels her head connect with the wall again, and again. “Why’d you have to remember! I never wanted this! Not you, not _you!_ Why’d you have to figure this out. Why? _Why!_ I wanted to help you! I wanted to _save_ you!”

There’s one more explosion of pain before it almost ceases entirely. She slips from his grasp, and there’s a thud but she barely feels it. She feels cold and still, she feels _calm._ He’s still screaming but his voice is muffled, distorted. Her vision is clouded and there’s a red veil over it from the blood. She feels something hot and wet touch her hand and she’s almost certain it’s her blood, but she can barely feel anything and she can’t see anything and she’s _tired. So tired._

Her eyes close. _Just for a moment,_ she thinks. She just needed to close her eyes for a moment.

Dante doesn’t even notice he let her go, he’s pacing like a caged animal and feels like he’s lost his mind. Alpha, Alpha who was his leader, his _savior._ Alpha had sent him in to do her bidding. He had gone in, pretending to be a doctor—it wasn’t hard, being a doctor and psychiatrist in the past _was_ true. She said it’d be easy. Go in, earn their trust, become one of them so when he turned the levers, weeded out the members, nobody would expect it was him. He had done so much damage, and it was easy. Until he met Tara. Tara was something he didn’t prepare for. He didn’t expect to meet this girl, this spirited and friendly person that weaseled her way into his heart. This person he felt the need to mend when she broke. He wasn’t supposed to care, to develop any real relationships. But she was kind, she was _good_. Tara was _so_ good. How could hurt _her?_ He couldn’t have them both. If he turned his back on Alpha, he would have to rely on these people, these people who with one word Tara could blow up his chances with. But could he kill Tara to return to Alpha? He was sure he wouldn’t survive killing her. He _couldn’t._ He didn’t think there was any good in this world until he met her. Tara and her contagious smiles, her love and spirit. _Tara Chambler_ was the good in this world.

_Tara_ was his savior, not Alpha. But when he looked around, she was gone. If she left to go get help, then he’d deal with it. He stepped back and he nearly trips over something and when he looks down, his heart nearly stops.

“No…” She didn’t leave, at least not _that_ way. She’s on the floor motionless. She’s pale, paler than Cheryl was. Paler than any person he’d ever seen. And the blood, it’s spread across the floor, dark scarlet and _too much_.

He sits beside her, her blood soaking into him but he doesn’t care. He stares at his hands, soaked in her blood, stained red and shaking. Water droplets land on his hand and he realizes it’s his tears. He stares at his hands, rocking back and forth with sobs. “What have I done? _What have I done?”_ The room is silent besides his sobs, the floor was scarlet and his hands were stained with her blood. He had killed the one good thing in the world.

He doesn’t even react when the door opens and Rosita steps in, baby in arms.

“Babe, you’ll never guess what RJ—” She freezes and she nearly drops the baby. She surveys the room, shaking. She sees the axe on the floor, the wall with blood splattered up it, the sobbing man covered in blood. And the love of her life’s body laying lifeless in a pool of her own blood. She walks over to the crib, placing Coco down shakily before her arms give out.

“I don’t know what…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want…This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not her _, not her.”_

“No.” Is all Rosita whispers. _“No!”_

She strikes out, punching his head with a scream. “No, no! You killed her, you killed her!” She keeps landing blows, battering his face but he sits there, taking her assault. “Fight back, you bastard! Fight back! _Fight back!”_

The door slams open, doorknob hitting the wall hard enough to leave a hole. Daryl and Gabriel rush in and they take in the amount of blood, Rosita’s sobbing frame, Dante covered and cuts and blood and Tara’s body. Rosita doesn’t even realize Coco’s wailing at the top of her little lungs. Daryl hauls Dante to his feet and drags him from the room while Gabriel picks up the screeching baby.

Rosita falls to her knees in the pool of blood, pulling Tara’s body up, cradling her. She screams, feeling an unimaginable amount of pain. She feels like someone took a knife and gutted her before lighting her on fire. She screams and screams. She screams until her lungs give out.


	19. In the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter early

_Rosita knew pain,_ she knew it well. She knew pain when she went flying off her bike and skinned her knees, palms and elbows after her classmates dared her to attempt the too high makeshift ramp. She knew pain when she saw her father die when the world ended. She knew pain when her group got picked off one by one on the road to DC. She knew pain when Glenn rushed into the infirmary with Tara, saying she got blasted by a grenade and that Aiden and Noah were dead. She knew pain when Abraham’s brains were beaten to mush in front of her eyes. She knew pain when Daryl carried Tara’s battered body through the gates of the Kingdom the morning after the fair.

But this pain, it was different. It was _raw_ and hurt more than she could ever imagine. Her chest hurt, from screaming and crying harder than should be possible and from the world sucking the air from her lungs. Her stomach ached and she felt like she was going to throw up, like she had been kicked until there was a hole. She felt like someone cut a piece from her soul that would never be replaced.

She’s holding the love of her life’s body in her arms so crushingly tight that she feels it when she spasms against her and she cries out, almost falling backwards. She realizes what’s happening and she feels sick, like _really_ sick not just from the pain. Despite the wound on her head and the blood spilt out all over the floor, somehow her brain had some activity, enough for it to spark up and for her to turn.

“No, please no,” she sobs, shaking.

She reaches with a spasming hand to grasp the hilt of her knife, drawing it out. She doesn’t think she could use it regardless, didn’t think she could bring herself to do it. She stares down, waiting for more movement, a guttural growl, clouded eyes opening. But all that happened was eyes flickering barely, a minimal nostril flare. She reaches a hand out, pressing it under the jaw and praying the change is slow.

She doesn’t know if it was desperate hope or if she was in deep denial, but she presses her fingers where the pulse should be. She yanks her hand back and sheaths her knife quickly, because under her fingers was a flutter. Barely there, but _real_.

“Help! Daryl, _somebody!”_ She screams with burning lungs.

It’s Laura who comes running into the room, spear ready. She lowers it when she sees the scene before her.

“She’s still breathing,” Rosita chokes out. “I don’t know _how,_ but she is. We need Alex! We need Alex _now!_ ”

“I’ll get Daryl,” Laura says breathlessly before disappearing.

“It’s okay, Tara. I’m here, I’m right here. Just hang on a little longer, please. Just _hang on._ Alex will come, we’ll take care of you. Just hold on. Please, just hold on.”

Daryl had come running in, breathless and splattered in what she assumed was Dante’s blood, or maybe Tara’s blood that had covered the man. He doesn’t ask questions, he sees her holding her like she’s fragile, lips pressed to her head, whispering to her and no longer breaking down and he knows that somehow, she was holding onto life. He had lifted her up carefully, carrying her to the infirmary with Rosita practically attached to him. Laura had ran to radio Alex he had said. Alex would come immediately. He _had_ to. She just had to hold on until he came, she _had_ to make it through the night.

And they were right. Early in the morning, Alex rode through the gates with a cart of supplies, anything and everything he might need to keep Tara alive. And he didn’t come alone—Maggie and Jesus came riding in with him.

“Yumiko’s taking charge back home with Ezekiel and Alden’s help, no way in hell we weren’t being here with her,” was Jesus’ response when Rosita asked why he was there.

The three of them spent a while just sitting around her bed. Rosita had Coco nestled in her arms, needing to hold onto something to keep herself grounded. Alex had patched her up and stitched up the nasty wounds. He had checked her eyes and her pupils had responded—she wasn’t _brain dead_ , but there was no way to know if there was any brain damage, if she was comatose or not. He didn’t know if she’d ever wake again and he didn’t seem confident she would.

Rosita didn’t know which was worse—the pain of her being gone, or the pain of her being alive but frozen in time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Daryl, Carol, Gabriel and Rosita were in the cell where Dante was being held. He seemed more like a broken man than anything, but for all they know it was a front to avoid being executed for Tara’s murder. She had barely survived and was still fighting for her life, but he didn’t need to know she survived.

Daryl punched Dante’s jaw, hard. “Hope that hurts, you bastard.”

Dante barely flinches, looks up at him with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t matter. Only thing that mattered was her, and I killed her,” his voice comes out strangled.

“I keep wondering,” Gabriel begins, pacing. “Why put Tara through hell in that barn, pretend to help her with her PTSD you people caused just to kill her a year later?”

Dante squeezes his eyes closed, breathing in shakily. “I liked Tara. Our friendship was real, it was. I really _did_ want to help her. This wasn’t the plan, she—she figured it out and I didn’t think I had a choice. By the time I realized I did, it was…”

“What _was_ your plan?” Carol snaps.

“Create paranoia to push you into bad decisions. Places like this aren’t supposed to exist…it doesn’t make sense. Not to Alpha, she thought you’d crumble.”

“We took you in. We helped you!” Rosita seethed.

“Because you needed a doctor,” Dante deflects.

“Because we care!” Rosita screams with sore lungs. “We care about people! There are _good_ people, people like Tara. Being a doctor changed nothing, we took in the others from your group and some are just workers.”

She kicks him from behind sending him sprawling face first on the ground before running out of the cell with a hyperventilating sob.

****

Daryl was packing a bag hurridely when Carol found him, a scowl set on his face.

“Where are you going?” Carol asks him, thinking he was out for revenge for what happened to Tara. She was hoping he was—if he was full of rage, then he would aid her in her own revenge instead of eying her like a hawk.

“You gon tell me what the hell really happened out there?” She looks at him with fake confusion as if she doesn’t remember the night before and it only makes him angrier. “You left with Lydia knowing she ain’t supposed to leave the walls for everyone’s safety including her own. You took her out and she never came home.”

“I already told you. Lydia didn’t want to come back. I couldn’t force her.”

“Bullshit! She knows it ain’t safe out there with her mother back.”

“You mean she’s needed here to protect us from her mother.”

“Nah, that’s bullshit. That ain’t all that kid’s good for. She ain’t our shield. She’s a kid, a _good_ kid. She deserves better than that.”

“Well, I showed one of them that she’s alive. _That’s_ what’s good for us.”

“So you used her. Dangled her like a piece of meat. You shouldda told me.”

“You didn’t want her used here to someone locked in a cell, you would never have let me take her out to the border.”

“Nah, cause I actually care about her. And if I agreed I wouldda told her what you wanted, not let you use her like that. You said she should make her own choice just to take hers away from her for your own gain. I’m gon go look for her and undo the mess you made.”

“Don’t cross the border. I hope you find her, but I don’t think she wants to be found.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t wanna be found by you.”  
  


………………………………………………………………………………………

The beeping of the monitors attached to Tara’s chest monitoring the sluggish beating of her heart was driving Rosita mad. She had lost more than half her blood volume and Rosita had been ill from the amount of blood they had taken from her—she had given blood to Tara so many time now. The grenade, the fair, and now.

She knew medicine, better than most of the people who weren’t doctors at least. So she knew Tara’s heart was too slow, that she was barely hanging on. She knew the odds of her ever waking up were low, too low.

She was sat beside the infirmary bed, Coco cooing and squirming in her arms and it hurt. Coco kept trying to look at her, letting out a loud whine. She wanted Tara and couldn’t understand why her mama was sleeping and not holding her. Rosita was feeling overwhelmed. She had fallen so well into the role of co-parenting, of relying on Tara that she wasn’t sure how to do this on her own, how badly Coco was going to deal with this. Coco was so used to two parents, too young to understand the struggle of this world. The deaths that were inevitable.

She jumps us, jostling Coco. She starts crying, wiggling around. She all but shoves the crying baby in Maggie’s arms before running out of the room. Maggie moves to follow but Jesus stops her.

“Don’t. Let her go, Maggie. She needs to process this however she needs to. Watching Tara fade away…Tara needs us here with her. I don’t know if she can hear us or sense us or feel us holding her hand, but if she can then she’d want us here, especially if Ro needs time to grieve. So come here and hold her other hand, she needs us.”

Maggie nods, not even considering arguing. She sits on the other side of the bed, the baby settling in one arm, the other takes Tara’s hand, rubbing her thumb over it comfortingly. She musters all the strength she has, gently squeezing her limp hand and trying to transfer as much strength as she can over to her.

Meanwhile, Rosita made her way to the gate breathing heavily. This couldn’t be real life, it just couldn’t. This wasn’t her story, wasn’t _their_ story. It couldn’t end so soon after it began.

Outside of the gate, banging against the wall was a handful of walkers. They were blackened and gnarly corpses and smelt like burnt flesh. She snuck through the gate, slipping the spiked brass knuckles on. She needed to get her anger and frustration out, to get a handle on these walkers and not feel so helpless. She needed to slip back into her former self, the person who had a hardened exterior and unwavering determination.

She was striking out, dancing around the walkers with blows, the spikes piercing their skulls easily. Her trauma fueled her. _Tara’s lifeless body in a pool of blood,_ punch. _Dante’s hands covered in Tara’s blood,_ punch. _The monitors beeping slowing,_ punch. _Coco crying and making grasping motions at Tara,_ she froze.

A walker grabbed onto her and she struck out but it was useless. It had a metal cap molded onto its head and she was punching it over and over but she didn’t even make a dent. 

Like a wrecking ball, Eugene appeared out of nowhere, body checking the walker off of her. He’s down, pinning the walker down in place while she peels the helmet off the walker. She nearly gags at the sight and smell of the gooey flesh coming off with the helmet, exposing the brain. She stabs it, putting the walker down.

“Thanks…” she manages out breathlessly, rising to her feet.

Eugene copies her, “No expressions of gratitude required. I’m just relieved I was crossing through on my way ho—on my way back to my domicile.”

Rosita heart stings at him nearly calling Hilltop home. “You almost said home.”

“No…” There’s a pause, before, “yes.” He looks down at his feet before meeting her tired gaze. “My deepest condolences, Rosita. I hope Tara pulls through. If she does not it will be an unimaginable tragedy.”

“Yeah…” she chokes out.

“Safe travels—I mean, I’m the one travelling. I’ll have safe travels.”

When she does nothing but stare at him blankly he excuses himself before walking away from her. Once he’s out of sight, she drops to her knees. All she can think about is how she froze, how if Eugene didn’t come when he did she might be dead or good as dead. She forces herself up to her feet and goes back inside the walls, trudging back to the infirmary.

When she walks into the room, Maggie leaps up with wide eyes. “What the hell happened?!”

Rosita realizes she must be covered in blood—her hands, her face. “I was helping Eugene with some walkers at the gate. Where’s Coco?”

“She’s in the other room fast asleep.”

Rosita goes to leave the room, to see her sleeping baby but she turns back around. Her eyes search theirs as she looks for anything to deter her for pouring her heart out. She finds nothing but welcoming expressions. “That was a lie. I wasn’t helping Eugene. He was helping me. I wanted to be able to handle walkers like before, but I just…froze.”

“It’s been a hard day for you, Rosita,” Jesus says in a gentle voice from his spot holding Tara’s limp hand.

Rosita shakes her head. “It’s not that. I could _die_. I always thought that if it happened, it happened. But now? Tara almost died, she still might. And if she never wakes up and I die, I’d leave Coco an orphan. Or if Tara pulls through, I couldn’t imagine putting her through this pain I’ve been feeling. I’m afraid to fight walkers, I’m afraid to die. And that feeling isn’t going away. I feel it deep in my soul. “

Maggie gives her a sad smile full of understanding. “That feeling never leaves. I feel it, every day. That if I die, Hershel will be an orphan. His father was murdered before he was even born, I’m the only parent he has. I have to remind myself every day that it’s okay to live, that I may be his only parent but I’m not all he has. My child has so many people who love him and I have so many who love me. Living in fear does nothing but make me miserable, make Hershel miserable.”

“How do you manage it? I feel like if I walk out of those gates I’ll freeze again.”

“You won’t. But if you do, you’ll have us to help you through it. Just don’t leave the walls by yourself until you know you’re ready.”

Jesus clears his throat before asking, “I’ve got to ask…that man who did this to her? What’s going to happen to him?”

Rosita’s face hardens. “He’ll pay for it, I’ll make sure of it.”

****

Later that night, Rosita had snuck out of the infirmary when Maggie finally fell asleep. She didn’t need to sneak into the cell—Laura had given her the key and let her by without a word.

She walks down the stairs lightly, feeling the smooth hilt of her dagger strapped to her belt loop. She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a public execution, the satisfaction of instilling more fear into others.

He’s sitting on the cot, looking like a broken man full of pain but she doesn’t buy it. “Were you really a doctor?”

He looks up at her voice. “Does it matter?”

“Guess not. You seemed like a good, genuine person. You seemed to actually care about the people here, your patients… _Tara._ That’s what I liked about you, I thought you were good for her. But you were the opposite of good.”

“I _did_ care about her. I still do. I wish I hadn’t…”

“You wouldn’t have done what you did to her if you cared.” Rosita unlocks the cell, stepping in. Dante looks up at her with confused eyes. His eyes flit to the dagger attached to her and he understands. He’d already accepted it, he was ready for it.

“The world… _Alpha,_ she twists people, twists things. She didn’t think there were good people, that anyone deserved second chances. I didn’t either, until I met Tara. She was like the family I wished I had.”

“She’s _my_ family. _My_ girlfriend, _Coco’s_ mother. She _has_ a family and you tried to destroy it.”

“Tri—tried? You keep saying _is,_ not _was_. Is she…?”

Rosita realizes what she let slip but she doesn’t waver. “Alive? _Yeah_. She miraculously survived what you did to her. She’s unconscious, but we don’t know if she has any brain damage or if she’ll even wake up again. You destroyed her.”

He breaks down in sobs, falling off of the cot into a pathetic heap on the ground. Rosita stares at him, and if she wasn’t in so much pain herself she might feel pity for him. And she wants him to feel that pain she feels, wants him to suffer.

She leaves him, leaving the cell and locking it back up. She feels the hilt again, knowing part of her should have just killed him. But she couldn’t. Not just because she wanted him to suffer, but for Tara.

When she got back the infirmary, Maggie was still asleep but Coco was fussing quietly in her bassinet. Rosita lifted her up, holding her close against her chest. She walked over, sitting beside Tara’s bed and took her hand on her own. She let Coco see her, let her whimper and reach for her. Let her grab Tara’s finger because she needed some kind of comfort.

“Oh, Coco. My strong little girl. you’re safe, baby. You have a family who loves you more than anything, you have a home. Your Mama can’t tell you right now, but she loves you _so_ much. I know you don’t understand any of this, but we have to be strong for her. Be patient. It’ll all be okay, I don’t know when but it will be. _You_ will be okay, my sweet girl.”

Rosita never slept, she was still awake when Maggie awake the next morning. Maggie stretched, her body sore from sleeping lopsided in the chair all night. “Did you sleep?” She mumbles sleepily.

Rosita shakes her head, trying to hide a yawn. “Not really.”

“Did you hold Coco all night?”

“Mmhmm.”

Maggie got up, winching at the sound of her back cracking. “Ow! That’s never a good sound, especially in younger people.”

Rosita chuckles, the first thing that resemblance a laugh since she found Tara.

“Can you please be quiet? My head is fucking killing me.”

“Yeah, sorry. We’ll be quiet,” Maggie says. Rosita stares at her with wide eyes and Maggie gasps. “Oh my god, Tara!”

“Mm, my head,” she croaks, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the light.

“Tara, baby,” Rosita passes Coco off, edging to the bed. She takes Tara’s still too pale face between her hands, stroking her thumb against her cheek. “Look at me, babe. _Please._ Just look at me.”

Tara’s eyes flutter, squinting against the light. Rosita leans over her, blocking the light and Tara looks up at her. Her eyes were full of pain and tiredness but they were clear and alive. “Hurts.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she sobs, leaning down to hug her. “Oh baby, I got you. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re okay.”


	20. Are You A Doctor?

Tara’s eyes flutter, squinting against the light. Rosita leans over her, blocking the light and Tara looks up at her. Her eyes were full of pain and tiredness but they were clear and alive. “Hurts.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she sobs, leaning down to hug her. “Oh baby, I got you. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’ll get Alex and Jesus,” Maggie says softly, readjusting Coco and leaving quickly.

“Here, babe,” Rosita lifts Tara’s head, pressing a cup to Tara’s lips. Tara turns her head away sluggishly and Rosita’s brows furrow. “It’s safe, Tara. You fixed the water, they made sure it was completely fine. The water won’t make people sick anymore. You can drink it. Please drink.”

Tara stops trying to fight her and sips the cool water. “Easy, there you go.”

Tara whines softly. “Hurts so bad.”

“I know, babe. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Alex will come and help you feel better.” Tara nods, though it’s more of a jerk and she squeezes her eyes closed as a tear leaks from the corner of it. “He’ll come soon, baby. Just hang on.”

Alex came rushing in, Jesus behind him. “She’s awake?”

Rosita nods but she’s not looking nearly as happy as he expected. “Yeah. It’s not really a good thing, she’s in so much pain. Can you do anything?” That last part was directed to Alex.

Jesus is beside her side in a flash, hand gently on her head. “Hang in there, T.”

“Mm…J-Jesus?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You really think that I’d just stay at home while you were hurt? Maggie and I came the moment Laura called us to tell us what happened.”

Alex came over and Jesus backed up. He pulls up the bandaging covering the wound on her head to check out her injury and she hisses in pain. “Easy, it’s okay. I’m not trying to get you to swallow anything. I broke out the good stuff for you anyways.” He pulls out a needle from his bag.

“Is that morphine?”

He nods. “We had some stashed away back home for any big injuries. I’d class this as something needing this. And if anyone deserves the big guns in medication it’s Tara.”

“D-don’t…was-waste it on m-me,” Tara chokes out, teeth chattering from the uncontrollable pain.

“Oh you hush,” Alex says, sticking the needle into the IV. “When your pain starts to fade in a few minutes you’ll regret trying to tell me not to give you them.” He presses the plunger down and the morphine goes through her IV into her arm. “Just hang in there a few minutes, Tara. The pain will dull soon, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Is that going to put her out?” Jesus asks quietly. Rosita strokes Tara sweaty hair back, careful of her head wound, stroking her cheek lovingly.

“It might make her sleepy. Honestly, her going back to sleep is the best thing for her at this moment. That’s a serious head injury.”

Jesus nods solemnly before retaking his seat on the other side of Tara. He looks at Rosita who’s biting back her tears and sighs. He leans down and whispers softly in her ear, “go back to sleep, Tara. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Her eyes flicker closed, she didn’t need to be told twice. She had been fighting to stay awake, flinching against the grating noises that killed her head, the lights that burned through her eyes and to her brain. The dark was welcoming. It was dark and quiet and she felt safe and warm. It beckoned to her and she had ignored it, trying to hold on for them. But she let herself slip away, to let the dark warm cocoon protect her until her body was ready for her return.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

_“Make it stop! Please, make it stop!”_

Tara’s pleas ripped Rosita’s heart out. When she woke up complaining of a headache Rosita had given her some pain meds. But the tears of a headache had soon turned to screams of unimaginable pain. Jesus had ran to find Alex.

Alex burst through the door, looking exhausted but awake. “What happened?”

“She was fine, she had a headache and then…something’s wrong, something’s _really_ wrong.”

“Tara, focus. I know it hurts, I know. But you need to focus, you need to tell me what the pain feels like.”

“I—no, no. I can’t. Please!”

“Do something!” Rosita yells at him.

“I can’t! I can’t do anything until I know what’s wrong with her! Tara, look at me. Look at me, now. Breathe, focus.”

“I—”

“Shh. Focus. Tell me, what is the pain like? Like a burning sensation? A stabbing pain? Like a buildup of pressure? Or something different?”

“P-press…like it’s g-gonna ex-explode. It…it hurts s-so bad,” she manages to say though her sobs, stuttering and broken.

“Shit.”

“What does that mean?!” Rosita asks, distressed. “What’s happening to her!”

“I patched her up best I could but my guess is a slow bleeder, slowly building up and the pain she’s in is a buildup of blood between her brain and skull.”

“Can you fix it?” It’s Jesus’ turn to ask, Rosita too busy covering her mouth to suppress a sob to ask.

“I mean, I could. But without the proper tools and technology, I can only fix what I can see. I wasn’t a neurosurgeon, even with proper equipment I would have struggled. I’ll do what I can, but…”

“What do you need?”

“Towels, there’s going to be a lot of blood. Alcohol, something for suctioning—I have to get creative for this one. And a drill, I need a drill.”

Jesus shudders and doesn’t ask, running off to find the tools her needs. Alex pulls out some more morphine and Rosita stares at him.

“You said you couldn’t give her more morphine.”

“I _shouldn’t_.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because risking giving her too much medication beats the alternative. I’m about to drill a hole in her head, being awake for that could put her into shock or kill her horrendously. Our best bet is give her enough morphine to knock her out and hope she wakes up.”

“H-hope? Hope she wakes up again? That’s our best course of action?!”

“Unfortunately, it is. If we do this with her under it’s a risk, if we do it with her awake it’s a bigger risk. If we don’t do anything she _will_ die.”

Rosita finally nods with a sob. “Okay. Do it.”

He goes to inject the morphine into her IV and she jerks her arm away. _“No!”_

“Tara, please, just let him. He needs to help you.”

“No, please no. Don’t, no. Ro, _please!_ ”

Rosita strokes the wetness off of Tara’s cheeks, tying to soothe her heart wrenching sobs. She leans down, pressing a kiss against Tara’s forehead through her own tears. “I know it’s scary, love. I know. But I’m right here. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” She cradles her head gently, kissing her. She nods to Alex and he injects the morphine. She keeps stroking her hair back, chin quivering as she holds back her tears best she can. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. I love you, Tara. I love you so much.”

She stills in her arms, her eyes closing and Rosita breaks. She bursts into tears, sobs shaking her body. She didn’t want to cry in front of Tara, to show her how absolutely terrified she was. But with her out, the fear of her never seeing her open her eyes again, she let herself break down.

Jesus came running into the infirmary, plopping a bag down on the table. “I got everything you needed…what’s happening?” He eyes Rosita sobbing and holding onto Tara.

“I put her under. I had to put an above recommended amount of morphine in her to successfully knock her out. It’s extremely risky, but she’s dead if she doesn’t get this procedure done.”

Jesus nods, walking over to them. He grabs Rosita’s shoulders, squeezing them to give her strength. Alex prepped what he needed while Jesus tried to coax Rosita away. “Alex needs space and you shouldn’t see this.”

“I’m not leaving. I promised her. I promised her I wouldn’t leave her.”

“She wouldn’t want you to see this and you know it, Rosita.”

“I’m not leaving her,” she shakes her head, swaying on her feet. “I won’t!”

“Ro—”

_“No!”_

“Hey!” Alex butts in. “Look, you want to stay then stay, but you have to stay out of my way and be quiet. Hold her hand, be there, but stay away from her head, got it? Jesus I’ll need your aid.”

“Alright.”

Rosita sits down, clinging to Tara’s limp hand tightly. She shudders when Alex ends up intubating her—she wonders why the hell Alexandria didn’t have even oxygen when everyone went downhill, not that it would have helped in the end. He opens a book, propping it up for him to observe. Shudders when he turns her head and rubs her temple with alcohol. She feels sick when he makes an incision with the scalpel. And she squeezes her eyes shut tightly when she hears the buzzing of the drill.

The sound of the drill meeting Tara’s skull was a sound Rosita thought she’d never get out of her head. She clutched her hand tightly, relieved that Alex had pumped her full of morphine.

“Oh god, that’s a lot of blood,” Jesus chokes out and she looks. She shouldn’t have looked because the blood pouring from the holes drilled into her head was so fast, so much the world is spinning again. “Should there be this much blood?!”

“No,” Alex’s voice is panicky and Rosita stands up quickly.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I didn’t nick anything, I’m sure of that. I don’t know, it has to be the original bleeder.”

“Do you know what you’re doing? Can you save her?”

“I was a resident! I’d assisted in plenty surgeries but did very few solo. I wasn’t even thinking of heading in the direction of neuro. So no, I’m relying on whatever instinct I have and this book. I’m doing the best I can, and I will try my darndest to keep her alive.”

She could tell Alex was drowning. He needed help, but the communities were very low on doctors, especially with losing two at the pikes. _The pikes_. They _did_ have another doctor. She let Tara’s hand go and she was running. She heard Jesus call her name but she was gone, running as fast as she could to the cell.

“I need the key. I need, I need the key,” she pants to Laura.

“What’s going on?” Laura asks, offering the key regardless.

“Tara. Bad brain bleed and Alex is out of his league. Dante said he’s a doctor and—”

“You aren’t _seriously_ considering letting him out, and near Tara?!”

“I don’t have a choice! If I don’t…she’s _dying,_ Laura. Please let me do this,” she sobs.

“I’m going with you.”

Rosita nods before running down the steps, Laura at her heels. “Are you a doctor?” She grabs onto the bars, looking at him earnestly. “You said it doesn’t matter but it _does_. Are you really a doctor?”

Dante gets up slowly, dragging his feet to the cell. “I was. I was a medic in the army.”

“A surgeon?”

“Yeah. A surgeon. I went through med school before joining.”

“Ever worked on a brain?”

“Have I— _what?_ Like head trauma or brain surgery?”

“Either? Both?”

“I mean, I dealt with a lot of head traumas, but never did actual brain surgery.”

“Brain bleed, swelling that got bad enough to drill holes into the head—”

“Burr holes.”

“What?”

“They’re called burr holes, the drilling of holes to relieve pressure.”

“Yeah, that. And there’s too much blood. What happens?”

“Find the bleeder, cauterize it if you can, stop the bleeding. Not much that can be done without proper equipment. In the army we had to be creative.”

“You’re coming with me,” she unlocks the cell.

“Wait—what’s going on?”

_“You_ did this to her. She did _not_ survive your attack to die days later from a brain bleed.”

“Tara. This… _Tara?_ You want me to operate on Tara after I tried to kill her?”

“If she dies, _you_ killed her. If you save her, then at least you get to know you’re not a murderer, not with _her_ anyways. Don’t be a coward and come try to keep her alive.”

He stumbles out of the cell and Laura shoves him forward roughly. The three make their way up to the surface and Rosita all but drags him to the infirmary. She runs in breathlessly.

“Where have you been?” Jesus calls loudly. He’s covered in Tara’s blood and she feels sick. “She’s losing so much blood, we need yours for her…what the hell is this?!” He sees Dante, rage filling him.

“He’s a surgeon.”

“He did this to her!”

“You think I don’t know that?! Jesus, she’s going to _die!_ ”

“Because of _him!_ He’s not touching her, Rosita. We can’t risk it.”

“Look at her, Jesus. Look at her! She’s dying, _again!_ I don’t like this anymore than you do, but what choice do we have?”

“She’s right, we need more experience,” Alex says through his teeth.

“I’m right here, and if he tries anything, I’ll kill him myself,” Laura promises.

“I wouldn’t have gotten him if I thought he’d try to kill her again,” Rosita chokes out. “I wouldn’t. I love her more than anything. _I_ need her, _Coco_ needs her. I only got him because I think it’s her best chance.”

Jesus nods, a stony look on his face. “I swear to god, if you pull anything I’ll make you wish you were executed.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Rosita practically collapsed back into her chair, latching back onto Tara’s hand as Dante takes Jesus’ place, barking order and getting to work. Rosita didn’t watch, laying her head on the bed. After he washed Tara’s blood off of his hands and arms Jesus ended up behind her with hands rubbing her back and arm soothingly. Soon the entire world just melted away and she was gone.

****

When Rosita came to, she wasn’t in a chair with her head on Tara’s cot. Instead she’s laying down on a separate cot. She shoots up, looking around anxiously. “Tara?”

“Hey, easy.” Jesus is there with a calming voice and gentle eyes. “She’s alright. Dante did somehow manage to keep her alive. They stopped the bleeding, patched her up. I kinda took some of your blood for her—kinda felt bad not asking first but like if you were awake you would have given it. That was the plan anyways I think?”

“It was,” she winces, looking at the gauze taped on the crook of her arm. “I would give it all if I had to.”

“I think she’d protest that, she loves you more than she loves herself.”

“I feel the same way as she does.”

“I know. You’re ridiculously sacrificial for each other, but insanely good for each other too. Here, eat before you pass out. Once you have some food in your system you can go to her.”

She eats the crackers quickly, drinking the sugary juice with a grimace. “Hate juice.”

“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s Tara’s thing.”

She slides off the cot, Jesus holding onto her arm. Tara looks much better than she had last time. The blood that was all over her, the cot and floor is gone. Her head is freshly bandaged, an IV connected to her arm hydrating her and she’s still ghostly pale but doesn’t look dead. She reaches a hand out to stroke her cheek.

“When does Alex think she’ll wake up, if she wakes at all?”

“Probably not until morning. You need to sleep.”

“I was sleeping.”

“No, you passed out from exhaustion and stress. And stayed out from losing blood. You need to sleep still. You’ll be no good to Tara or your daughter if you’re half dead.”

Rosita glares at him. “She stable?”

“She is.”

“Good.” She climbs up on the cot beside her and Jesus grabs a better blanket from the cabinet while she settles. She lays down beside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders. Jesus covers them with the blanket before settling into Rosita’s chair.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

“Not gonna sleep,” she mumbles against Tara’s neck. But moments later, her breathing evened and she was fast asleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Even after Rosita woke up that next morning she didn’t move, staying in place with Tara safe in her arms. Jesus kept reading his book not wanting to disturb her.

“What happened?” comes a groggy mumble that nearly cause Rosita to fall out of bed. Jesus got up and moved swiftly to the bed.

“You’re okay,” he says, putting a gentle hand on her head.

“All I remember is how bad it hurt,” she whispers. “My head…it was more pain than I ever felt before.”

“It was a bleed in your head. It was really intense pressure on your brain, that’s why it hurt so badly. Alex had to drill a hole in your skull to relieve the pressure.”

“I have a hole in my head?” Jesus is waiting for the tears or a shout, he does not expect the chuckle that leaves her followed by a wince. “Well, this certainly beats the time I got blasted by a damn grenade.”

Rosita chuckles wetly. “You definitely feel more yourself.”

“Mm. Guess I am.” She smiles weakly. “What else happened?”

“Well…Alex had trouble, he’s not a surgeon. And the bleeding got out of hand. So we needed backup.”

“There isn’t any other doctors… _oh_. You’re talking about _him,_ aren’t you? Dante?”

“You remember what happened then?” Rosita asked gently. She had desperately hoped she wouldn’t remember that. That she didn’t have to live with that trauma. She’d have to tell her but hearing it and remembering ever detail were different.

“I do,” she whispers and her chin quivers. Rosita brushes the tear off her cheek. “He…”

“You don’t have to say anything, Tara,” Rosita says gently.

“I—I do. This whole issue, the reason I ended up spending so much time with him was because I just held everything in.”

Rosita kisses her temple and nods. Jesus gives her hand a squeeze. “I n-never thought it-it’d be him. I th-thought he actually c-cared. The water, it was _him_. He-he killed them. Killed _Cheryl_. He’s a fraud.” She slumped against Rosita while tears consumed her. “H-he came to or h-house that night. He wanted to see if I was o-okay after Ch-Cheryl. Tell me it wasn’t m-my fault. While he was hugging me, he made a clucking sound and I-I remembered. _I remembered_. He was th-there. At the barn, he was there that night.”

“Wait, he was at the barn when they were all killed? He was a part of that?”

“H-he was the one who held me d-down while they p-pulled Enid from me…”

“Oh my god,” Jesus walked in a circle, hands running through his hair.

“I was-wasn’t smart, I—my face told him I-I knew. And I tried to gr-grab my axe and he grabbed me. And he—he—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Rosita held her close, kissing her head over and over. “It’s okay, my love.”

“We didn’t kill him why?” Jesus asks, rage in his voice.

“Because we needed him to save her.”

“She’s saved. Can we kill him now?”

“No.” It came from Tara. She looks up at him with tear filled eyes begging him to understand. He sighs in defeat, for now, and walks to her. He puts an arm around her, taking the momentary win.


	21. The Ultimate Choice

“Hi, baby.” Tara reached for Coco with a smile and Rosita placed her in her arms. Alex had deemed Tara stable enough to have the baby brought in.

Coco smiled wide, giggling. She had been giving Rosita and Maggie hell for the past few days—she had been wanting Tara and soothing her had been a challenge. “She’s missed you.”

“With you sick for days and then me injured, poor baby can’t catch a break. All she wants is both of us okay and giving her the attention she needs. Huh, Coco? You just want us all okay.”

Rosita climbs up on the cot beside her, arm around her shoulders. “We’ll try to stay healthy and uninjured, little one.”

Coco doesn’t understand but she smiles up at them, cooing happily. Tara lifts her up, pressing a kiss to her head. “Mm. I missed this. I mean, I was unconscious for most of it but I still missed it.” She rests her head on Rosita’s shoulder. “I want to go home.”

“Home as in back to the house here or back home to Hilltop?”

“Back home.”

“I’m not sure Alex is going to clear you for travel, but I’m sure I can talk him into letting you recover at the house over here. And then in a week or so we can head back home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

True to her word, when Alex had stopped in to check on her, Rosita and Maggie had talked him into allowing Tara to rest in her own bed over the infirmary cot. He had fought at first but when Jesus popped in and came to the girls’ aid, he gave up. He insisted he carry Tara home at least, not wanting her attempting to walk and pass out from exertion. Tara had grumbled, not wanting to appear so weak she needed to be carried around but she obliged—that was better than laying in the cot under never dimming lights that had that aura of all the recent deaths.

Maggie had Coco snug in her arms while Jesus slid his arms under her knees and back, easily lifting her up. Rosita ran a hand down her arm. “If anything happens, anything as much as a headache or slight fever or vomiting, you come get me. I think we’re completely out of the woods but we can’t be too careful especially with her history of head trauma.”

“I’m right here, y’know,” Tara comments from Jesus’ arms with a dramatic eye roll.

“If you have any symptoms at all, you have someone get me or bring you here, okay?”

Tara shrugs and he shakes his head. “Hence why I was talking to everyone but you.”

“We’ll bring her in if anything seems wrong,” Rosita promises.

“Okay, good.”

Satisfied he allowed them to leave. Tara rested her head on his shoulder, not wanting to see the looks she got. She was tired of the looks she got, she had always been looked at for ger bravery and strength but the past year had been looks of pity and sympathy from her survival at the pikes and now from this.

“What?” There wasn’t time for looks because once they were far enough away from the infirmary Jesus slipped between two houses into the grassy area between the houses and the wall. He gently put her down to her down to her feet.

“You’re such a bad example,” Rosita laughs with no complain.

“She’s been laid up enough. Plus, I’m right here. Anyways if she gets dizzy and falls and for some reason I don’t catch her she can’t split her head open on grass.”

“She can reopen her injury though,” Maggie points out sourly. “She had a hole literally drilled into her brain the other day or did you forget? All she needs is a little pressure and it’s game over.”

“I won’t let her fall, Mags. Seriously.”

“It’s fine, Maggie,” Tara tries, a vice grip on Jesus’ arm anyways.

“You’re reckless, I don’t exactly trust your judgment in judging what’s safe, Tara.”

Tara huffs. Rosita shakes her head. “I’m right here if he somehow manages to let her fall I’ll keep her up. Let her walk, she needs to.”

“If she gets hurt again…”

“I won’t.”

Maggie huffs with a firm shake of her head, walking ahead of them with a fussy Coco. She wasn’t watching with bated breath to see if Tara would be okay, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand how Rosita and Jesus could.

It wasn’t rocket science why—not to Rosita and Jesus, anyway. They knew how rough recovering from the pikes was for her, how she shied away and felt humiliated by how weak she had seen herself despite everything thinking how strong she was for moving forward despite the thousand pound burden on her shoulders. And here she was again, head trauma and laying in the infirmary for days and feeling weak and hopeless once again. They wouldn’t push her past her limits, wouldn’t put her in danger or allow her to put herself in danger. But they needed to get her up and moving to keep her spirits up. A person could only take so much and Tara had been through well more than her fair share of bad shit. Losing her family and girlfriend in one fell swoop, being on the wrong side of a war that cost dozens of innocent lives, getting blasted by the grenade and losing Noah, barely making it out of Oceanside and coming home to Denise, Glenn and Abraham dead, another war with Negan, Maggie walking away, Jesus almost dying, the pikes and now this. Rosita wasn’t sure how much more she could take before she just gave up. And she’d do her best to keep her going forward.

It was one step at a time while she hung onto Jesus, but the more steps she took the less she relied on him. Her legs were less wobbly and she wasn’t as dizzy as predicted. Rosita hovered but didn’t crowd her and she didn’t mind one bit. It wasn’t too long to the house and they found Maggie waiting with an annoyed look.

“Maggie,” Tara sighs. “I’m fine.”

“You might not have been.”

“How? I had two people there. Couldn’t have been safer.”

“Yeah right. You just don’t think, Tara. That’s your problem. You aren’t careful. You do reckless things and don’t pay attention or listen to everyone. You refused to listen and showed up at the beach despite trying so hard to get you to stay home, you came here despite not being ready, you didn’t even pay attention to the signs that Dante—”

“Maggie—” Rosita seethes.

Maggie runs a hand over her face. “No, that was…that was unreasonable. I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean that” Tara says softly. Rosita scoffs and Tara touches her arm. “Ro, everyone stresses in their own way. Maggie always tends to be overly protective and motherly every time anything happens. Remember the grenade?”

“I do overreact, don’t I?” Maggie chuckles dryly. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Jesus helps her inside and Maggie points to the couch, “couch or bed though. Not budging on that.”

“I’m not either,” Rosita tells her. “You do need to rest. Not going to force you to be bedridden but we need you to take it easy and not push yourself.”

“I’m alright with that.” She lowers herself onto the bed and reaches for Coco. “If I have to stay here might as well get cuddles out of it.”

Maggie feigns sadness at having to pass the baby over but smiles anyways.

“There’s my girl,” she smiles down at the giggly baby.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“It’s been over a week. What’s going to happen to him?”

Tara, Rosita, Maggie and Jesus had met with Daryl and Gabriel to discuss Dante’s fate. The three latter shared a look. “We decided not to make a decision until you were well enough to have input.”

“You want her to basically decide his fate?” Maggie asks, scowling.

“We were all fooled, we lost some good people, but you were who was affected the most. You know him best. Could he be converted like the Whisper girl?” Gabriel asks.

“She has a name,” Daryl snaps, he was still upset about the teen being missing.

“Sorry, do you think he could potentially switch sides like Lydia did?”

“I—I don’t know,” Tara makes out. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“He won’t talk to us. But maybe he’d talk to—”

“Hell no!” “Are you kidding me?!” Maggie and Rosita shout at the same time.

“You can’t seriously think sending her down to see him is necessary,” Jesus says in a serious voice.

Gabriel puts his hands up. “Look, I can schedule an execution if you don’t want to.”

“Seriously? Her option is to go down to see him or be responsible for his execution? You say it’s her choice because she was affected the most and then want to put her through more shit?”

“Ro—”

“No, Tara. I’m not going to let him pull this bullshit.”

“Ro, it’s okay. I could—”

“No.”

“You and Jesus could—”

“No.”

“My choice.”

“I don’t—fine.” She huffs. “If I even have a bad feeling, I’ll kill him myself.”

“That’s fine,” Gabriel says, sitting back. He seemed almost pleased with himself.

“Asshole,” Rosita growled before storming out.

Tara runs out after her, trying to keep up. “Rosita!” She cries out, slowing. She puts her hand son her knees, winded. Maggie catches up, rubbing a hand down her back.

“Breathe, take it easy,” she says softly.

Rosita turned around, heading back to them. She’s still fuming, but her eyes are gentler and there isn’t stress rolling off of her in waves. She wraps her arms around Tara tightly, breathing her in. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just so angry.”

“You aren’t alone,” Jesus informs her, leaning against the building. “He had no right saying that.”

“We should probably get this over with,” Tara mumbles into the crook of Rosita’s neck.

“We don’t need to do this today,” Rosita says tensely.

“We do. If I wait longer I may change my mind, and anyways Daryl’s planning on taking a group to check out the horde and look for Lydia and I want to go.”

“Oh my god,” Maggie walks a bit away, running a hand through her hair.

“Of course you do,” Rosita chuckles. “Y’know if things don’t go great with Dante there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go.”

“I know. So let’s go make sure it goes great. Jesus?”

“I don’t like this,” he says but follows them.

“I’ll just, go watch the baby then,” Maggie says before stalking off.

“She’s angry,” Tara says softly as they head to the cell.

“She’s scared,” Jesus informs her. “She’s worried about you so she’s lashing out. She says other than Hershel, you’re the only family she has left. She’s terrified to lose you.”

“I know,” she sighs heavily. “I can’t just sit on the sidelines though even to stay safe. It’s not me.”

Rosita actually smiles. “I know, and I love that you haven’t let all this shit change that about you.”

Jesus makes a sound of mock disgust at their closeness and Tara flips him off with a smirk. The chuckles and elation is short lived, the atmosphere turning tense once more when they reach the cell.

“Let me go down first, alright?” Rosita says gently. “Wait here with Jesus, please?”

She nods and Rosita descends the steps, entering the room connected to the cell. Dante looks up from the heap he’s in on the cot. He’s gaunt and near lifeless, the untouched plate of food shoved back under the bars told her the sad man hadn’t been eating.

“Your so depressing to look at maybe she’ll actually choose execution,” Rosita comments and his brow furrows. “Gabriel put your fate in Tara’s hands. If she doesn’t find you an immediate threat and you give her reason to believe you could switch sides, then you’ll be able to live here and slowly earn your freedom back like Negan. If she feels threatened by you or thinks you’re a lost cause, then you’re execution will be scheduled. I came down here to relay that to you before she comes down too.”

“Sh-she’s coming down here?”

“Yeah, to look at your sorry ass and decide your fate because Gabriel’s a cruel bastard that wants to put that on her after everything she’d been through. Everything you put her through.”

“I didn’t—I don’t—she shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, she shouldn’t. But she has to.”

“Just execute me then, spare her that.”

“If your friendship was as real as you claim it was you know that she’d feel the weight of your death if you were executed and she doesn’t feel it was justified. She needs to decide for herself if you deserve it or not.”

“I almost killed her. I do deserve it.”

“I agree with that. But ultimately it’s up to her to decide.” She backs towards the door. “I’m calling them down. If you say or do anything that as much as scares her I’ll kill you myself and it won’t be quick, I guarantee that.”

“Got it…wait, them?”

She opens the door, “Tara, Jesus, come on down.” She stays there as they make their way down. She holds a hand out to Tara who takes it with an iron grip. She braces herself as she’s led to face the cell, to face him. He’s up, moving towards the bars in anticipation. They move into sight and she’s paler than normal still, not as sure and not as steady, but she’s alive and she’s okay and was what counted.

“Tara,” her name comes out breathily. “I’m—I’m happy you’re alive…”

“No thanks to you,” Jesus snaps. Rosita thought Maggie would be too angry to come, but she wasn’t ready for the rage rolling off of Jesus in waves.

“You said he did the surgery,” Tara reminds him quietly.

“He only needed to do the surgery because of what he did.”

“He has a very good point,” Rosita points out, folding her arms. She fixes Dante with a cold look and he almost shudders. Almost. Her icy look had nothing on Alpha’s soulless stare.

“If you two are so hell bent on what to do, why the hell am I here?” Tara asks, and it’s loud this time. The sudden loudness causes the other three to jump.

“It’s not our choice—”

“Maybe it should be!” This time it’s a shout.

“Maybe we should just leave you to it,” Rosita offers, letting Tara’s hand go. She’s ready for Tara to latch back on, to beg her to stay. It almost stings when she doesn’t, she nods jerkily. Jesus goes to protest but Rosita forces him backwards, makes him hike back up the stairs. Makes them both leave Tara, safe physically but completely exposed to his words. Rosita prayed it was the right choice.

Tara eyes Dante and he can’t meet her gaze. He’s ashamed but she doesn’t know how much is real emotion and how much is a desperate attempt to make it out alive. She sighs and grabs the chair in the corner, the movement making him lift his gaze. She sets the chair cross from him, close to the bars but out of reach. He can’t blame her. He’s surprised she’s come this close at all, even more surprised she sits and looks prepared to sit there awhile.

“I almost killed you.”

“I’m aware,” she says in an annoyed voice. “You did kill others. Cheryl, Tanner, Lucy—Lucy had two children, y’know. You took peoples wives and husbands, parents and children.”

“I know.”

“You were there that night.”

“Which night?”

“Don’t play stupid. The _barn. That_ night.”

“I was. I was new…that was my first real job with them.”

“You held me down while they pried a child from my arms, you forced me to watch her behead her.”

“Child—the young woman, Enid?”

“Don’t say her name,” Tara snaps. “You lost the right to say her name. She wasn’t the only one. There were children there, barely sixteen. Adeline, Rodney, Henry. They were children. Enid was only twenty-two, I’ve known her since she was fourteen. And you weren’t just there, you let them die. You forced me to watch them die.”

“I—”

“Ozzy was a leader, a damn good one. I only knew him days but he was a good man. Alek too. DJ was a guard here in Alexandria, loyal and fair. Frankie had a teenager, she adopted her and raised her and now she’s orphaned again. Tammy Rose had a husband, had a baby they had just saved. A baby your people threw out to die because he cried. Addy and Rodney were children, they barely lived. And their friend, he’s the one who tried to kill your leader’s child—I’m sure that bitch would appreciate that. And Enid, she deserved the world. She was good. Siddiq, he was a doctor. A good doctor. He was Coco’s father, y’know. He died and never got to meet her. And Henry, he was a child. He fell in love with Lydia, and because her mother is a sociopathic monster he paid the price with his life and his mother will never be the same again.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know what…I was new. I had my wife and my son, they were real. It was all real. I was a medic in the army. I was a psychiatrist. I was able to keep them alive when this started, I knew how to fight and use weapons and I could medically treat them. But then I ran out of ammunition, and we grew tired. And we got corned one day, idiots trapped in an alley. The biters came at us, my son was five. I was pulling the trash bins to the gate so we could climb over, throwing an old moldy blanket over the top so it wouldn’t hurt when she started screaming. Our boy had gotten grabbed from a biter stuck in the dumpster, one I never—I should have noticed. And my wife had intervened and gotten bit. It bit her arm and our boy was frozen I grabbed him and we tried to get away from the biters. My wife, she threw herself screaming into the horde. She threw herself to them to give us time. I threw our boy over my shoulder and climbed the fence, we got away. It was just us for a few months, and when the cold set in he got sick. Very sick. We searched everywhere for medication but the cold turned to pneumonia and he didn’t make it. I didn’t know that the change happened no matter what, he changed and I had to stab my five year old boy in the brain.”

“You never said any of that before,” Tara says quietly.

“Alpha says the past doesn’t matter. Everyone has a past but it must be forgotten.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

  
“Yeah, well. I liked forgetting. After my boy died I wandered barely surviving but not living for years before I came across them. They took me in. I thought they saved, thought she saved me. Sha gave me a sense of purpose, something to live for.”

It’s quiet for a bit as she mulls over the newfound information. He’s quiet, letting her process. He doesn’t draw away, doesn’t force her. He let’s her move at her own pace, he owes her that much at least.

“How did you end up here?” She asks finally.

“Lydia didn’t know me, and Alpha decided that I had proven myself enough at the barn. She trusted me to at least get this done. I found a small group of people, travelled with them and made it here. I wrote letters and left them in a tree while I was out hunting for her. I gave her information—what I had done, how many weapons, people. I tampered with the water and Alpha had another flood the river you draw from with dead walkers. Enough to slowly weaken people, it’d kill the weak but just weaken the rest. We wanted it to seem like the flu, to be inconspicuous. The ‘silence the whispers’ was me, to create paranoia.”

“And me? What was the plan with me. Get close, screw with my head, get information and then kill me?”

“I wasn’t supposed to go near you. Alpha thought you were at Hilltop. She didn’t want me socializing with yo in case you remembered and outed me.”

“Then why?”

“I wasn’t supposed to create bonds, care about anyone. But you were here, and you sucked me in. You are so charismatic and I wasn’t supposed to form relations. But I couldn’t help…I couldn’t help but be your friend. And it was genuine, it was. It went against my entire mission to befriend you, but it was worth the risk. And helping you with your PTSD, it was stupid. Making it more likely for you to remember, it was so much of a risk and so reckless but you were hurting and I lost my way and the old me resurfaced for a moment and I helped or tried to help. Coming here, she told me not to trust. That the people here wore fake masks of kindness to hide the struggle and the bitter, that it was a false sense of security. Not to get used to the comforts here, the heat and the electricity, the fresh water and real food. That it’d fall soon enough and I’d return home a hero. I kept everyone at arm’s length, didn’t settle, until I met you. You were genuine and kind and you wore no mask. You voiced the struggles and fought for the security and you work so hard to keep this place standing, to keep everyone safe. There wasn’t a false sense of security, there were people on guard day in and day out fighting for the safety. I got too comfortable and I almost didn’t go through with it. but I did because of the fear if this did fall and I didn’t aid her, I’d be dead as the rest of you.”

Tara wipes a tear off her cheek, sniffling quietly. “So much for genuine though. You nearly killed me. You thought you had.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, right,” she mutters, voice thick with emotion.

“I didn’t, T. You figured out the water was tampered with, you never even thought of me. But you were beating yourself up about it and I went to soothe you. And I was nervous with the guilt, and I did my clucking tick—I’ve had it since I was a child, clucking like a goddamn clock. And then you…you pulled away and I saw on your face. You remembered. Then I remembered, I had been clucking that night at the barn as I held you down, nervous with that being my first gig as a real Whisperer. And I knew I messed up helping you because you put the puzzle pieces together. I hoped you’d ask me to explain but you were panicked and reached for your axe and my instincts kicked in. I grabbed you and I slammed you into the wall and I…I didn’t realize what I was doing. I was so angry. At Alpha for putting me in this situation, at you for remembering, at myself for allowing myself to grow close to you. I had—I realized it was her, she was the bad one. I realized that she held false promises and she was soulless and cold and I hated her. and I wanted to be on your side. That’s when I realized what I had done, I saw all the blood…”

“Rosita still won’t let me in that room, she’s afraid it’ll set me off. Especially since the blood stained. The wall’s white, bloods red.”

“I’m—I…I’m sorry.” It’s choked out and she almost softens, but what happened was too fresh. She was kind, she was good. If it had just been her affected maybe she’d have already forgiven him. But Rosita had been affected, Coco had been affected. She wasn’t ready to schedule his execution, didn’t think he deserved to die. But she wasn’t going to forgive him or let him back in. Not yet maybe not ever.

“She walked in, Rosita. She started screaming and punching me. She wanted to fight back, to hit her but I couldn’t. I was…I felt like I had killed the only good thing left on this earth. I was ready for death, but they just locked me. They questioned me and I told them what I could. I was ready for death but they just locked me up. And Rosita, she came down one night with a knife and I was sure she was going to kill me. She questioned me relentlessly, and she…she slipped up, saying you somehow lived. And she left me alive. And I saw no one despite the blonde woman who fed me until Rosita ran down asking me if I really was a doctor and I found myself in the infirmary digging around in your head trying to stop a brain bleed. Once we were done the blonde dragged me away and I was back in the cell alone until now.”

“What do you want?” She asks. Her chin wobbles a little and she’s struggling to hold in her emotions, terrified to show him an ounce of weakness.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to die? Or do you want to live? If you want to die still, I’ll grant you that. If you want to live…you’d have to learn to live here. In this cell. You’ll have to earn your freedom, little by little. Is that the life you’re willing to live?”

“I…” He sighs. “Are you asking me because you don’t want to make this choice, or because you want me to decide?”

“It’s your life. Whether I want you dead or alive isn’t the question. Whether you can become one of us is what is. Even after what happened…I don’t want you dead. But you can’t live here if you aren’t willing for the change.”

“I don’t want to die.” It’s all he has to say. Tara nods stiffly.

“I’ll send Gabriel to discuss details with you.” She gets up, placing the chair back in the corner.

“Tara.” He says before she can ascend up the stairs. She stops, peering over her shoulder. “I truly am sorry, and I’m so thankful you made it.” 

She gives a shadow of a smile. And then she’s gone, heading up the steps and exiting. She finds Rosita and Jesus waiting by the small window—they were listening to their conversation. She’s not surprised, she even assumed they would. Jesus’ jaw is set, clearly unhappy with the man being allowed to live. But Rosita’s face is void of anger or frustration, reaching for Tara immediately. Jesus’ glare softens when he meets her eyes, so sad and vulnerable. He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving a squeeze.

“Maggie’s going to be so angry,” Tara sighs.

“I’ll deal with Maggie,” Jesus promises. “I don’t like it, but I get it, T.”

Tara gives him a grateful smile, “thank you.” The three headed back towards their temporary home, Rosita’s arm wrapped around Tara tightly, Jesus at her other side. Jesus is the first to jog up the step, entering the house. Maggie was pacing in the kitchen and her head snaps up when they enter.

“So?” she asks, brow creasing deeply in concern. She knows the answer when Rosita steers Tara away and she halts them quickly. They brace for her to shout, for her to be annoyed but Tara just finds herself engulfed in a hug. “Do you remember what I said after the grenade?” Maggie asks softly.

Tara hums into her shoulder. “The conversation when you told me about Nicholas and…Glenn?”

“Mm.”

“He got Noah killed and tried to kill Glenn, and you said Glenn saved people even people like him. And you gave me a choice to either tell everyone and get him exiled which was akin to death or let him live…oh.”

“And what else?” Maggie presses.

“You, um…said you wanted to send him off to his death but you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you thought about me, how we were on the opposite sides of the fence on the worst day of your life back then. And how I had become one of the most important people in your life.”

“And you still are. I may not like this, but I get it. He’d be proud, y’know. Glenn would be proud.”

Tara smiles, blinking through her tears. Maggie lets her go, lets Rosita herd her away before turning to Jesus for details.

“She’s right, you know,” Rosita tells her gently. Tara peels off her jacket, wincing. Rosita moves to help her. “I don’t exactly like it, but I accept it. I love you and your big heart, and I’m proud of you for going down there and talking to him, for coming up with a decision no matter how hard it was.”

“It was very tiring, I’ll say that. I feel drained.”

“I know. Do you want to take a nice long nap?”

“I want a nice hot shower first. Help me?” She asks. If it hurt to pull a coat over her shoulders, it’s hurt to pull a shirt over her head.

“Mm. Do you really need help or do you just want me to undress you?”

“I really do need help, but you taking my clothes off is a wondrous bonus. So would joining me in the shower.”

Rosita helps her get her shirt over her head before connecting their lips. Without breaking the kiss, Rosita lets Tara’s head down from it’s messy bun, knotting her fingers through her hair holding her head in place. She kissed her deeply, passionately, a war between hands and tongues. Rosita breaks away just long enough to lead her into the bathroom, the idea of either knocking a hip into the corner of the dresser unappealing.

Tara’s hand finds the faucet, turning it up to let the water run a moment to heat up. Rosita pulls her own shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor. Her pants, then Tara’s, soon join the pile. Their undergarments join and Tara is backed into the shower.

Their lips interlock again, desperate and heated under the hot water. Hands roam, a fight for dominance. Rosita always won. But this time Tara defied her. Maybe it was nearly dying again, maybe it was a rare burst of confidence bubbling in her chest, but whatever it was settled inside her deeply. Tara’s lips find her neck, kissing and sucking and earning a low moan from Rosita when she finds her pulse. Rosita’s back is pressed against the shower wall, not fighting and allowing Tara to take over. One hand is knotted in Tara’s wet hair, the other gliding down her smooth back. Tara was bolder with her lips connected to her lover’s neck, her hand finding its way between her legs. Rosita shamelessly spreads her legs for easier access, not bothering to muffle her moans.

Tara captures her lips in her own, swallowing her moans. Rosita’s nails dig into Tara’s shoulders, her head falling back as Tara works her magic, moving her fingers inside in a way that none of her other partners have ever satisfied her with. Tara presses her lips against her throat, her hand not slowing. She pumps her fingers in and out, crooking them to hit her spot just right. Rosita almost forgets how to breathe—not that this was the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had, but it as the most intimate, the most loving she it had been months since the last time she found herself tangled up with Tara.

Tara’s fingers still and a keen whine if disappointment leaves Rosita’s lips before she can stop it. Her complaints don’t last when Tara kisses her way down warm, wet skin, knees touching down on the shower floor. Tara’s breath is more scalding than the water raining down on them, tempting and teasing between her thighs. Rosita presses a hand against the slick wall to brace herself but her other hand was still tangled in Tara’s hair.

Tara is a tease, vibration of a satisfied hum on her inner though, nose nudging her opening. “Babe,” Rosita mumbles, or more like whines. “Please.”

She feels the chuckle more than hears it and without warning Tara’s fingers are back, moving painstakingly slow through her folds. She’s taking her time and seeing how long Rosita could last and it was driving the woman mad.

“Tara, I—” her hiss is cut off by a gasp when she’s hit by the new sensation of Tara’s tongue replacing her fingers and she nearly slips. “Oh, god.” Tara’s chuckle sends a vibration through her again as she moves her fingers and tongue synchronously, sending a wave of unimaginable please through her. She doesn’t last much longer—Tara had to hand it to her, she had lasted longer than she had predicted.

Rosita with shaking legs and breathlessness leans against the wall, finger meticulously running the shampoo through her girlfriend’s hair, forgetting the reason for the shower before Tara handed her the bottle with a smirk. As Tara rinses the soap from her hair Rosita leans in, lips pressing against her ear, “you did that on purpose.”

“Did what?” Tara asks innocently, wiping water off her face.

“Getting me into the shower, screwing me, getting me all wound up just before your nap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rosita rubs her thumb down Tara’s angelic face. “Mm. You do. I hope you don’t plan on taking that nap, because I promise you I shall show no mercy.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hm. It is.”


	22. The Cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's late posting, I ended up with a foot injury and then my brother had a baby so I completely spaced on posting. But I'm here!

“I’m going.”

Ever since Aaron had convinced Daryl to gather a group to check out his lead on the horde—and Daryl agreeing to for the sole purpose of having a hunting party on Alpha’s territory to find Lydia who was still missing, Tara had been insistent on going.

Maggie just shook her head at her before returning to Hilltop. They had left Yumiko on her own running Hilltop for far too long and she was needed. Jesus was torn between going to the caves and heading home. Maggie had ended up convincing him to return to Hilltop, Yumiko got defied enough and Maggie wasn’t much more liked by Earl and other older citizens who had looking up the leader before her. She needed Jesus now more than ever. So after giving a bone crushing hug to both Tara and Rosita he left with Maggie, only because he was confident in Daryl, Aaron and Rosita’s ability to keep her safe, not that she needed it. Tara Chambler was a force to be reckoned with.

Alex had begrudgingly cleared her to return to normal and they left that same day. Tara, Rosita, Aaron and Carol rode on horseback following Daryl. It wasn’t too long a ride and they spent it in tense silence until they arrived the meeting point where Jerry, Magna and Connie stepped out of the brush. Daryl immediately moves to Connie causing Tara and Rosita to share a knowing smile as they dismount.

Jerry can’t contain a smile as he moves to them. “You two came? You’re okay?”

“Couldn’t keep her away. Trust me, I tried.”

“I’m okay,” Tara smiles, hugging him tightly. “Nothing seems to keep me down and I’m _not_ hiding behind the walls,” the last part is directed to Rosita.

“Let’s still not tempt fate, okay?” Rosita asks, hand on her arm.

“I won’t, I swear.”

Magna runs over, grabbing Tara and Rosita both in a hug, drawing a chuckle form Jerry.

“Mm. Hilltop’s not the same without you two. Leadership is making Miko a lot harder to be with.”

“It does that,” Tara replies, knowing the feeling all too well. With Maggie, Jesus and herself all in leadership roles it was quite a burden to bare. “It’ll work out. Maggie and Jesus are heading back as we speak so when you see her next that burden will be so much less on her shoulders.”

Magna nods with a tense smile. She tugs them forward. “C’mon. Let’s get to it. Screw these freaks.”

“Yeah, screw them,” Tara nods.

Behind them Daryl and Connie walked side by side. _“Thanks for helping,”_ he tells her, signing sloppily. He was grateful—she didn’t need to come but she was selfless and had a pure heart that made her want to help everyone. He had first saw that when she had fought for Lydia before he did, when she fought for the child who didn’t belong to them, who had lied to them. Fought to save her from her mother’s claws and bring her home. And he was _so_ grateful she did.

_“Anything for us,”_ she write on the pad. She frowns at his set jaw and serious look. _“What’s wrong?”_

_“Not just out there to check out the horde,”_ he admits. She gives him a questioning look. _“Lydia’s gone. She ran away.”_

Connie stops, looking at him wide eyed. _“Why?”_ She signs. She follows his gaze to Carol’s back and she understood.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The world had grown dark by the time they reached the border. Tara’s vice grip on Rosita’s hand tightened and Rosita searched her face, seeing if she would truly be okay with crossing into Alpha’s land.

“I can do this,” Tara breathes though it seems she’s more so trying to convince herself more than Rosita.

“You can,” Rosita reassures her. _“We_ can.” Tara nods and they walk across with Magna and Jerry. Carol was standing there, peering up at the pikes. When Daryl tried to speak to her she shook herself out of her frozen state, stalking across the border with him following.

They travel uneventful through the night, everyone too afraid to stop. Daryl had convinced everyone to stop and rest for a bit so they didn’t putter out. They couldn’t pull out the flashlights or light a fire so they sat back to back in a circle in the dark, some taking quick naps but most of them on alert. When they sky began to lighten they were moving again.

The morning was bright when they found the spot Mary had told Aaron, where Aaron was so certain the horde would be. He had trusted that woman freely, openly. But the spot was bare.

_“Dammit!”_ Daryl yells, nearly throwing his bag.

“Wait!” Aaron calls as he begins to stomp away. “Daryl!”

“What?” He growls, swinging around.

“Look, this doesn’t mean Mary lied to us, okay? The horde was here. They put traps on the road to deter us!”

Daryl scoffs. “Yeah, by some hunter a decade ago!”

“That trap Carol nearly stepped in was rigged recently and you know that!” Aaron argues stubbornly.

“Guys!” Rosita calls. “Do you really want to just stand here and debate this? There’s no horde and no point of standing here bickering in the open.”

“Yeah, I’d really like to not stand here in the open like a sitting duck,” Tara adds. “I don’t exactly need another near death experience. None of us do.”

Aaron sighs, reaching a hand out. “C’mon, look. The horde could have been here last week. We had an obligation to check it out, and—”

“Nah, not why I crossed. It’s time to find Lydia, we’re on this side so we’re gonna find this kid.”

Nobody argues beside Carol who scoffs quietly. Daryl pretends to ignore her. Connie runs up to walk beside him, Tara, Rosita and Magna whispering among each other behind them. Jerry tried cheering Aaron up behind the girls while Carol trudged behind them.

They wander through the woods, Daryl pointing to the winding river. “If Lydia got lost, she would’ve taken this river downstream to our side of the border. Or at least stick close to it if she stayed over here. If we follow it we might pick up her tracks or even find her…” He trails off when Carol halts, taking a step off path. “Carol! Let’s go!”

“Go on,” Carol calls in a distracted voice. “I’ll catch up.”

“Nah, we’re in _their_ territory. We gotta stick together.”

Carol ignores him, creeping forward. “Carol!” Carol freezes when she sees a figure across the field. It wasn’t just any figure, it was _her_. Alpha smiles maliciously and Carol growls, lunging forward! “Carol! No!” Daryl shouts.

“Shit,” Tara breathes before Rosita pulls her forward.

They all run after her, a mix of fear and annoyance and anger. Carol scurries down through a ravine and climbs up, running into the dark mouth of a cave. Daryl shoves some walkers that emerged into the ravine, leaping down to take them out. “Go!” He calls the others. “Get her ass out of there!”

Daryl finishes taking out the walkers, climbing up the ravine. He holds up his daggers, walking stealthily into the darkness. He doesn’t see anyone, and all he hears is a dull growl of walkers. He’s on alert, trying to resist the urge to strike out at every movement he sees. Last thing he wants is to bury his dagger in one of his friends skulls.

The floor is suddenly gone and he’s plummeting down, hitting and bouncing down a drop and he hit the ground with a hiss, his body hitting another’s. The body he hits groans and he realizes it’s Jerry. He grunts, pushing himself to his feet. He looks over and sees Carol stumbling, touching her fingers to the cut on her head.

“Are you okay?” He hears Rosita ask in a voice pitched higher than normal. She’s helping Tara to her feet and she nods, breathing out, “I’m fine—Ro.” She shines her light and she swallows hard. “We found the horde.” They were raised up on the foundation enough they couldn’t get them, but they had limited room and limited time.

Carol looks up and pauses. With a torch lit hanging over the edge to look at them was Alpha, smiling at them. She takes pleasure in them being trapped, destined to die finally. It was a trap and Carol had walked them right into it. Carol opens her mouth and screams, rage bursting from her chest. She’s seething and the monstrous woman above disappears, leaving them for dead.

“Can we climb it?” Jerry asks, peering up.

“Too steep,” Magna growls. She fixes Carol with a murderous look. Even Tara who rarely held ill will towards others was glaring at her, eyes darkening. They were all enraged, besides maybe Connie.

“Hold on,” Daryl says before anyone can convince one of the girls to let them catapult them up. “Look. The wall over there.”

“It’s wet,” Tara murmurs. “The river must run right above.”

“If waters seeping in then there may be a way out over there,” Rosita adds.

“I don’t see a way across,” Aaron joins in.

Tara moves her light. Daryl sees something and halts her movement, “go back.” She moves the light back and they see it. Large rocks growing from the foundation. The footing didn’t look ideal and a few had such a small ledge for the feet to land, but it appeared to be their only option. “We can use those to jump across.”

“Seriously?” Tara asks, eyes widening.

“Got no other choice,” Aaron murmurs.

“Well, shit. My balance isn’t exactly back to how it was yet. And my knee is still shit.”

“I’ve got you,” Rosita promises. “We’re all getting through this. _All_ of us.”

Daryl swallows and Tara hands him her light. “You guys ready?”

“Who’s first?” Aaron asks.

“I’ll go,” Daryl tells him. “Make sure everyone else gets across safely.”

Daryl tries to draw what courage he has before taking the first leap, landing smoothly much to his surprise. The second rock makes him anxious, the large formation having very little floor space to land. He leaps, sticking his landing, barely. Carol goes next, jumping carelessly in a way that stung Daryl. As angry as he was at her for Lydia’s disappearance and them ending up in this hellhole, she was still his oldest friend. Walkers are reaching up on the rocks, trying to grab at their legs. They keep moving, and Magna and then Connie are next. Then Jerry. Daryl makes it across, perched on the edge ready to aid the others. Carol stumbles upon her final landing and he pulls her against the wall and does the same for Magna, then Connie.

Tara jumps and Rosita is pacing the edge like a feral animal. She sticks her landing at first, but she stumbles and goes down. “Tara!” Tara is quick to get back to her feet, kicking the walker than got ahold of her ankle away. “I’m good!” She calls to Rosita in her most reassuring voice. Rosita is an anxious mess when Tara leaps to the other rock, this time without any mishap. She jumps, wanting to stay as close as she could. Aaron is the last one, taking his leaps. It’s painstakingly slow, but everyone makes it across. When both of their feet are on solid ground on the other side, Tara envelopes Rosita in a firm hug, breathing her in. It’s short lived relief when a walker wiggled its way up and got ahold of Rosita’s leg. Tara yelps, kicking the walker in the head to knock it’s gnarly teeth away from her girlfriend. Jerry’s sword flashes, slicing the arm with the vice-like grip clean off while Tara kicks it the rest of the way down.

“Hey, hand me that thing,” Daryl calls suddenly, reaching for the severed arm.

Jerry gives him a funny look before offering him the arm. “Sure, knock yourself out dude.”

Daryl wraps some old cloth around it, making quick work of turning it into a torch from the half empty box of matches from his bag. He and Jerry help get everyone up into the dark opening above before climbing up themselves. They walk through, the space getting tighter as they see columns rising from floor to ceiling, paths woven between them. When the path tightens he halts them, not wanting everyone getting lost in the dark. He hands the torch to Connie’s who’s right behind him. “Stay here. Keep everyone together,” he tells her, signing. She nods and he strikes a match, moving ahead alone to investigate the area.

“Did anyone bring food?” Jerry askes curiously, trying to lighten to somber mood.

“Food?” Tara asks, looking at him with wide eyes. “How long do you think we’ll be trapped down here? I didn’t just barely survive my head nearly being bashed in just to die in a freaking cave.”

“We aren’t dying. They got the horde in somehow which means there is a way out. We just need to find it,” Rosita says, voice tense.

“Right. I wasn’t asking for food because I think we’re trapped for good, I was asking cause I skipped breakfast.” It’s a lie, but it soothes her regardless.

She looks around, seeing the light flare up from Daryl’s match, seeing shudders from others. Carol looks worse for wear but she can’t bring herself to care. Connie on the other hand did.

Connie holds up an _“are you okay?”_ sign and Carol understood. “I’m fine,” she says tensely.

“She’s claustrophobic,” comes Daryl’s voice from between some columns.

Rosita scoffs loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you stupidly got us all trapped down here. You’re _this_ close to killing us all, you know that? And for what, your _revenge?_ I’m sorry your kid is dead, but we have kids too and you’re going to leave them orphaned if you don’t stop this bullshit! Jerry has Ezra, Aliyah and Mariam, Aaron has Gracie, Tara and I have Coco, Daryl's got Judith and RJ.”

“Ro, not the time for this,” Aaron says softly, though she can tell he was angry too. He was just much better at controlling his emotions than she ever was.

“Why not?” She snaps. “All we’ve got is time! She’s being stupid and reckless, running off after that bitch and putting us all in real danger _again_.”

“Hey!” Daryl calls. “We don’t got time for this shit. Follow me, I found a path that hopefully leads out.”

They don’t get too far down the path before another dead end is hit. It wasn’t so much a dead end, it was a fork in the path with a few different paths they could take. Jerry chuckles as Aaron switches his metal hand for a spiked ball, Connie and Magna sit—the latter so anxious she was bouncing, Carol locking eyes with a seething Rosita before sauntering away.

“She’s a bitch,” Rosita growls under her breath.

Tara sinks to the floor. “She’s angry and scared. Her son was killed. If things were different and _I_ had died, would you be okay? Would Maggie, Jesus?”

“Probably not. I’d be incredibly angry, but I’m not an _idiot_. Maybe I’d go out on my own to kill the bitch that killed you, but I’d never put everyone else in jeopardy left and right.”

“I know,” Tara scoots closer and rests her head on Rosita’s shoulder. Rosita wraps an arm around her, holding her close. Tara might seem like she wasn’t doing the greatest but it was all cards on the table—she almost always showed what she was feeling. Rosita on the other hand was terrified, barely holding on inside. This was all too much all at once, back to back fear that wasn’t ending. She wishes she stayed back. No, she wishes _Carol_ stayed back. The woman was a danger to them all, a loose canon and she wondered why they even allowed her to as much as step foot out of the wall let alone into Alpha’s territory in the first place.

Across the cave, Magna was feeling similarly. For the first time the hothead stayed pretty quiet and allowed Rosita to tear the woman apart. She was a powder keg herself and gives Connie’s arm a squeeze before she leapt up.

“Anymore matches?” She asks, approaching Daryl.

Daryl huffs. “You should take it easy. Rest while you can.”

She shakes her head fervently. “I need to do something. If I don’t I’m going to flip out on someone. Probably Carol.”

Daryl hands her the box of matches without a word and she gives him a tense smile of thanks. She leaves and he sees Carol standing right behind her, but he can’t find any words to say. She sinks down beside him, holding her knees.

“I never told you I was claustrophobic.”

Daryl grunts, giving her a firm look. “If I only knew what you told me I’d know jack shit.”

“Look who’s talking,” Carol deflects.

Daryl shakes his head at her. “It’s like I can’t even turn my back on you anymore. The shit at the school, what you did to Lydia, _this_. It’s bad enough Aaron’s running ‘round with that skin freak and Dante turning out to be one of 'em and nearly killing Tara. Now I gotta worry about you half cocked and full of revenge every time we step out of the wall.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I begged you to talk to me. I wanna be there for you but I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

“I just…I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I have to but I can’t.” She sniffs, a sob coming out. “I don’t just want to _just_ kill Alpha, I want to _hurt_ her. I want to hurt her so badly she begs for forgiveness and mercy, then I want to kill her.”

He flinches at the harshness in her voice. It made her almost unrecognizable. “If I went through what you did, I’d probably feel the same way unless _you_ tried to stop me. You gotta quit this shit. You hurt Lydia, you used her and now she’s out there all alone and I’m scared that when I find her she ain’t gonna to trust me again. I’m scared all these good people in here will get hurt or worse. Scared _we_ will get hurt or worse and that I'll leave Judith all on her own. And if we make it out, I'm scared they’re all gon turn on you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I know, I gotta…”

“You gotta not bullshit me. You gotta promise. I gotta know from here on out we’re on the same team. We fight for our future, we don’t fight for revenge.”

“I promise I’ll _try_.” It’s all she can offer, all she could promise. She was breaking, a hole in her heart and the rest was shattering. She fell in the dark and she can’t find her way out and she was too independent, too proud to grab the hand reaching down to her.

“Alright.”

It’s enough for him, for _now_. She leans against him and it’s almost like old times. _Almost_.

Nearby, Magna was looking through the paths, staying in hearing range of the others despite how much she wanted to stray. She’s desperate for a way out, desperate to get back to Yumiko. They were okay, but they could be better. She needed to see her, kiss her deeply and passionately and tell her she understands. Tell her she supports her and will her lighten the burden on her shoulders instead of leaving her flailing. Tell her she’ll step it up on her job and then some.

She turns around just in time to see a Whisperer lunging towards her with a knife. “Skins!” She screams, dodging the knife.

The others jump into action, clambering into the area. Magna’s axe is unsheathed and she’s a force to be reckoned with, embedding it in a skin's skull. Daryl is the first to join in, a whisperer leaping in front of him. He strikes out with his daggers, ending the person quickly. He hears a thump behind him and swings around to see a Whisperer falling, Connie standing back with her slingshot still raised. He nods to her in and dim light and she nods back.

The other Whisperers flee, seeing the intruders taking them out left and right. They’re more resourceful than the Whisperers thought. Daryl grabs Connie’s hand and pulls her along, running after the fleeing Whisperers. They were their ticket out of the cave of doom.

“We need to stick together!” Tara calls breathlessly as they ran through the columns, trying to track each other’s footfalls. Her hand was firmly in Rosita's. “If we split up in the dark, we’ll never find each other!”

They slow when they reach a wall, Daryl cursing. He only now realizes Connie’s hand is still in his and neither made a move to let go.

“We know there’s a way out now,” Aaron tries.

“Yeah, but where?” Magna asks breathlessly, hands on her knees.

Jerry points to the right, “I think they went this way.”

“You saw where they went?”

“Not exactly, but…” He shines his light on an arrow carved into the stone with a smile. “But I know a road sign when I see one.”

There’s breaths of elation as they go in that direction. It goes much smoother, especially when they stone turns to some dirt and there’s foot prints to follow. “In here,” Daryl says, looking at the tight squeeze.

“Oh god,” Carol stumbles back a step. Connie moves to her, touching her shoulder with a concerned look. “Give me a moment,” Carol breathes. Connie takes her hand regardless with a comforting smile, tracing her finger against her palm. “U…R…O…K,” Carol says as Connie traces. Carol gives Connie’s hand a grateful squeeze. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, guys.”

Daryl climbs in, squeezing into the path. Magna follows behind him. Connie ushers Carol ahead, climbing in behind her. Aaron is next, then Rosita nudges Tara forward gently. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Right with me,” Tara says softly, grabbing Rosita’s hand as she climbs in. Jerry is last, climbing in behind them.

The scoot along through the path until the roof itself dip down. “We’re crawling!” Daryl calls back and he doesn’t miss the sound of Carol’s anxious breathing.

“Jerry, you okay?” Rosita asks at the struggling man crawling behind her.

“Yeah, I'm just a six foot dude who had trouble fitting into airplane bathrooms. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Fair enough. We’re going to get through this tunnel, okay? All of us.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“I’m out! Follow my voice!”

The upward climb was grueling and the exit was just spitting them out in another part of the cave but it was better than the tunnel. Daryl helped Magna through the hole onto solid ground.

“Carol?” He hears her hyperventilating, her whimpers bouncing through the tunnel. “Carol?”

“I’m here,” her voice is choked, desperate.

“Come on, follow the light. You can do it.”

“I—I can’t!” Connie takes her ankle, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Carol tries to draw comfort from that.

“You can,” Daryl’s says calmly but urgently. “C’mon, we’ll get through this together. Follow my voice, follow the light.”

Carol swallows hard before wiggling her way forward again. This time she does grab the hand that’s reaching down through the darkness and she clasps it. Daryl hauls her up and then Connie who was directly behind her.

“Hey, you guys?” Jerry’s voice sounds.

“What is it?” Rosita calls back.

“Quiet for a second. Listen.” He rotates best he can, shining the light down behind him. Not far, fifteen feet at best, were two walkers dragging themselves behind them. “Walkers! Go, go, go!”

“Shit! Tara, go!”

“C’mon, hurry!” Daryl shouts. He grabs Aaron’s hand and hauls him out before leaning back in. “Tara, take my hand!” She grabs it, letting him pull her up and out as well.

“Ro!” Tara calls.

Daryl grabs onto Rosita, pulling her up. “Jerry!”

“Guys…I’m stuck.” Jerry’s voice has defeat in it, a somber tone. It sends anxiety rolling off of everyone. The somber, defeated tone is replaced with fear when his voice raises. “My feet! They’re biting my feet!”

Daryl jumps partway into the hole, Aaron quick to grab his leg so he didn’t pitch face first with no way to turn around. “Jerry! Take my hand!”

Jerry reaches up, gabbing his hand weakly but Daryl can barely make him budge. Aaron let’s Daryl go, moving to peer in over him. “Hey! Your gear, that’s what’s got you caught. Take it off!”

Jerry fumbles, legs kicking at the walkers gnawing on his feet. He gets his gear off, pushing it up into Daryl’s hands. Free of the gear, Daryl’s able to pull him up, getting him out. Jerry hits the ground as Daryl and Aaron wait for the walkers to get up for they can put them down.

Tara, Rosita and Magna kneel down beside Jerry. Tara does her best to comfort him and Magna coaxes him to sip the last of her water while Rosita examines his chewed on foot.

“Hey, it’s okay. They didn’t bite through your shoe. You’re okay.”

There’s breaths of relief, Tara and Rosita helping him to his feet while Magna notices something—light across the way.

“Hey, look!” She points, moving towards it when suddenly the floor is gone and she’s falling. A hand catches her, pulling her back up to solid ground. Daryl. She looks down, realizing they’re just on the edge and the rest of the massive space was a hole, a black abyss. Daryl has no quell in ripping off the arm of one of the discarded walkers, lighting it on fire and dropping it. It falls down a hundred feet at least, landing and showing the outline of the entire horde below.

“Shit.”

“How do we get out?” She asks him, pointing to the light. “It’s in the other side. Does the ledge lead all the way around you think?”

She’s interrupted by Rosita calling to them, “over here!”

Daryl and Magna move to the rest of the group who had relocated near a boarded up wall. “What’s this?”

“Looks like an old mine shaft. Which means somewhere in here there’s a way out,” Tara comments.

Daryl and Jerry pry the boards off with Aaron’s help, shuddering at the cold, damp space past it. Like all the other occasions, Daryl stepped in first followed by Carol, Connie, Magna, Tara, Rosita, Jerry and Aaron. They look around through the mine.

Connie begins signing and Magna is quick to translate. “We have to be careful down here, we move the wrong piece and this whole place could collapse.”

“Good to know,” Jerry chuckles nervously.

“So we be careful,” Daryl says simply. He observes the inkling of light in the ceiling which appears to be an exit that was blocked by growth and time. “Alright, find something to dig and do it carefully.”

Daryl and Jerry focus on moving larger pieces of timber, heeding Connie’s instruction to be careful as Aaron eyes it, directing them. The others were looking around for anything they could use. Tara finds some old shovels and a pick axe and holds them up to Rosita who nods, helping her carry them over to the men. Nearby Magna uncovered a damp old sheet off of a box and freezes. There was dynamite, and a lot of it. She picks some up and it’s slick and she barely stops to wonder if it’s stable. Sha carries it over to the others.

“Look at this.”

Jerry looks at it, wide eyed. “That’s really cool. Could be—”

“Hey, put that down!” Rosita butts in. “Don’t mess with explosives, that’s sweatier than we are and was left for a reason. Even without the fuse lit it could still be unstable.”

“She knows her explosives,” Tara tells her, remembering the many times she had seen Rosita work with them. Especially the day they found the wire of explosives where Negan blocked off a highway and Rosita disabled the bombs, instructing everyone on how to pack them carefully.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Magna says as she carefully places the dynamite down, covering it back up with the sheet. She joins them again, taking a shovel to help jab up at the slowly expanding hole. They took turns, letting screaming shoulders and backs rest as others worked at it. The sunlight streaming through gave them all motivation to work harder, faster.

The hole had grown and Jerry pushed Magna up. She could fit her head through but her shoulders would be a really tight squeeze and no way the men would make it through. “A bit more, it’d be a really tight squeeze to get me out especially with nobody to pull me up.”

They lower her back down and she retakes a shovel. “Take a break,” Daryl tells her. “Wait, where’s Carol?” He looks around, seeing her gone.

“She must’ve slipped away,” Tara says tiredly.

Daryl looks around and a cold chill goes down his spine when he sees the dynamite missing. “Dammit Carol, what did you do? Keep working on that exit, I’m gon go find her!” Daryl orders before running back into the darkness.

He runs out of the mine, searching. In the dark he sees her white hair and he moves swiftly especially when he sees her let go of the ledge to shove dynamite into a small alcove above. She loses her footing and his heart is in his throat when she falls, clinging to the edge desperately. She struggles but doesn’t scream for help and he hates that. He grabs her clammy hand anyways, managing to pull her up.

“The hell you doing?” He’s _livid_ and if they weren’t standing on the ledge he’d shake some sense into her.

Carol’s look is frenzied and she’s not thinking, not one bit. “I could take out half the horde from here!”

“You’re gon get us all killed!”

“She killed my boy,” she sobs.

“I know. But you gotta come back with me, please. Don’t do this. Listen to me for once, Carol.”

Carol nods finally and reaches up to grab the dynamite from the alcove. She loses the grip on it, it’s just too slick from the damp room it plummets down. Daryl grabs her pressing them both against the wall as the explosion shakes the cave.

Back by the opening the area shook and one of the beams from the ceiling collapsed. Jerry catches it with a strangled yell. Aaron moves quickly, helping Jerry support the beam with a groan. “It has to be ready, we gotta go now!”

Connie shakes her head and runs into the dark. Tara drops her shovel and goes to follow.

“Tara!” Rosita grabs at her.

“Help them! I have to get Connie!” Tara says urgently before grabbing a flashlight and running after the other woman.

“Rosita! Come on!” Aaron calls. Rosita stares at where Tara retreated. “Rosita!” She sighs and goes back to them. Aaron boots her up through the much expanded hole and she’s up on her feet, pulling her weapon out as two Whisperers run at her.

“Guys! We’ve got company!” Aaron is boosted up next to aid Rosita in taking care of the Whisperers coming out of the woodworks.

Down below, Tara and Connie are with Daryl, helping him get an injured Carol over to them. Daryl clambers up first so he can pull Carol up with Aaron and Rosita being preoccupied. Rosita swing around just in time for Daryl to pull Tara up and she breathes in relief.

“More sickos!” Magna’s voice calls from down below.

“What’s going on?” Daryl shouts down.

“Jerry, get out of here!” Magna runs to the advancing Whisperers, axe held high. Connie runs after her, not wanting her to go alone. Jerry screams and lets go of the beam, climbing up with Daryl’s aid. The beam crashed down onto the box of dynamite.

The explosives blew, the cave shaking before it crashed out down. On the outside they watched the dust fly up, the explosion rising in the air. Daryl almost collapses in shock when he realized who was in there when the cave collapsed.

“No!” Tara screams and Rosita grabs her.

Daryl moves, trying to pull rubble off. Tara and Rosita move to aid him. Lifting the rocks off of the foundation was tiring and their muscles already ached but they didn’t want to stop. They couldn’t stop.

Jerry approaches them tentatively despite the enraged look on Daryl’s face and the tears trickling down Tara’s. “Daryl? Tara? Ro? It could take over a week to clear all of this and that blast will call every walker and Whisperer for miles. We can’t be here when they all come.”

Rosita touches Tara’s arm. “He’s right, Tara. We can’t try to find them if we’re dead. Coco needs us, too. Both of us.”

Tara nods, leaning against Rosita and letting her help her to her feet. Daryl pushes himself up, stalking forward. Carol gets in his way and it takes everything in him not to strike out. She had cost him Lydia and now Connie. Her thirst for revenge had cost him too much.

“Blame me! I deserve it.” Carol cries, Daryl being angry and lashing out was better than _this_ Daryl. Better than him looking at her like she was nothing, looking at her like it hurt to be in her presence. He tries to shove past her, face red and eyes glistening. “Say it to me, you were right about everything. Just say it!” he shoves past her and she grabs onto his arm. “No, please! You cared about her and now she’s gone because of me! Please just say it! Just say it!”

Daryl shoves her off of him, not feeling even a twinge when the sobbing woman hit the ground. “Go home, tell the other you found the horde…tell Yumiko and Kelly.”

“Where are you going?” Tara asks tearfully.

“Those skins got out before us, gotta be another way in.”

He’s gone and they’re heading the opposite way. Tara fixes Carol with a cold look full of hatred but holds her tongue. She drags Rosita with her, not wanting her girlfriend to waste her breath.

“Jerry? Aaron? Can you…can you tell them? Yumiko and Kelly? I just…I can’t face them right now. I can’t,” Tara shakes her head with a sob. “I just…we need to get home to our baby.”

“We will, T. Don’t worry,” Jerry promises.

“Look after Gracie?” Aaron asks. “Tell her daddy will be home as soon as I deliver the news.”

“I will,” Rosita promises. “Gracie can even stay with us 'til you get back.”

“Thank you.”

They part ways, Jerry and Aaron heading for Hilltop and Rosita and Tara heading to Alexandria. They’d rest a few days, maybe a week, and then they’d head back home to Hilltop where they belonged.


End file.
